


Profound Bond

by Powerfulweak



Series: The Prince and The Falcon [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Disneyland, F/M, Gay princes, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Mentions of underage drinking, Miscommunication, Past Ruby/Sam Winchester, mentions of Sam/Jessica Moore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-10 00:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11115840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powerfulweak/pseuds/Powerfulweak
Summary: The life in the Golden State is not as golden as Dean had imagined as he starts over in Anaheim. One the other side of the country, with his dreams turned to ash, Castiel learns a chance encounter with a good samaritan can have lasting effects. Against incredible odds, Castiel and Dean will discover how to move past pain and learn to forgive each other and themselves.





	Profound Bond

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [JiniZ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JiniZ) for Beta Reading

Dean stands outside the Disneyland Casting Center. The beige building looks oddly similar to the one in Orlando, with its checkerboard exterior and spires, but also distinctly Californian. The air around him is warm without any of the tell-tale stickiness of humidity he’s accustomed to. He takes a deep breath and shoulders his duffle bag as he walks through the front door. 

“Uh, hi,” he says as he approaches the reception desk. “Dean Winchester. I’m supposed to be starting here… today.” The modelesque receptionist gives him a soft smile as she picks up the phone and taps a couple buttons. 

“Are you Dean?” Dean startles at the voice behind him. He turns to see a petite, dark haired woman in a sharply pressed dress shirt striding toward him. “Tessa Mortimer.” She extends her hand toward him. “I’m one of the Casting Associates. We spoke on the phone.”

“Yeah, Tessa, hi,” Dean says, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“We’re all so glad you made it out here.” She squares her shoulders in a no doubt practiced move meant to make her seem taller than she is. “Your flight was good?”

“Uh, I drove actually,” Dean admits, and is met with a stunned look from Tessa.

“You drove? From… Orlando?”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to leave my car,” he explains. The Impala had taken the cross-country trip like a champ, but Dean knew he’d need to replace the water pump soon. “It really wasn’t bad.”

“Well, that’s great,” Tessa says, the words coming out as smooth and automatic as one of the animatronics. “We’ll make sure you submit a travel claim for reimbursement. If you’d like to follow me.” She turns on her heel and strides in the direction she came, Dean hoofing it behind. 

They navigate a maze of corridors and take two flights of stairs down to the dressing rooms. Tessa quickly rattles off information as they walk, telling Dean about necessary forms and state tax information. He tries to pay attention, but finds himself distracted by his surroundings.

It’s surreal being someplace so familiar yet so very, very different. At one point, Merida jogs past them them, hands full of her skirt so she doesn’t trip, and Dean has to hold back calling out “Hey Charlie!” 

“I know you’ve done this for awhile,” Tessa glances back at him, once again flashing that tight smile. “Everyone at the WDW offices spoke so highly of you. We were really overjoyed when Hannah said you’d accepted the job.” Dean offers a friendly smile even as he swallows down a hard rock of guilt in his throat. Any mention of Orlando immediately sends his thoughts back to Disney World and Castiel and the way they left it. He had said such horrible things, deliberately trying to hurt Cas because- Well, now he’s not really sure why. On the longest, loneliest stretches of the drive across the country, Dean would start to think that maybe he could call Castiel and clear the air, but then he’d always stop himself. He doubts Cas would even pick up the phone if he called. 

Dean nearly runs into Tessa as she slows abruptly.

“And here we are,” she announces, indicating an open door. Dean peeks inside to see an employee lounge, decorated in muted colors and furnished with overstuffed couches. A few costumed cast members are dotted around the room, chatting or browsing on their phones. Tessa leads him to the far corner where a dark haired man is tying a red sash around his waist.

“Michael?” she says. The man lifts his head and grins at her.

“Hey Tessa.” Tessa tugs Dean forward by the arm.

“This is Dean,” she says, her voice still holding that overly-friendly tone. “Our new Maurizio.” Michael’s eyes light up and he shakes Dean’s hand enthusiastically.

“Oh wow, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says. “I’ve seen the videos of you in action. It’s awesome stuff, man.”

“Oh, thanks… man,” Dean says, a little caught off guard by the energy. “So, you’re uh… Prince Eric?”

“Actually,” Tessa interjects. “Michael will be playing your Pietro.” Realization dawns on Dean; he can see it now. With the blue eyes and thick, dark hair, Michael does indeed bear a passing resemblance to Castiel. 

_ Pietro _ , Dean reminds himself.  _ He looks like Pietro, not Cas. _

“Yeah, we’re going to be partnered up,” Michael says. “And I’m really looking forward to working together. You…” his smiles widens and he points a finger at Dean. “... have set a very high bar for the character.” Dean tilts his head to the side.

“Well, I kind of think the movie did that.”

“No, man, it’s you,” he says adamantly, “All you.” Between the Stepford Wife HR Representative and the Surfer Disney Prince, Dean has no idea if he can muster up enough intensity to match these people. He was always told California was laid back, but apparently that doesn’t apply in Disneyland. 

“Michael, why don’t you show Dean around and give him the grand tour while I run and get the rest of his paperwork,” Tessa says. She turns and locks eyes with Dean. “I’ll be back in 20 minutes.” Tessa leaves, her heels clicking down the hall in a staccato beat. 

“Yo, man, Tessa is a little intense, but she’s good people, really,” Michael assures once she is out of earshot. Dean gives a vague nod.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says.

“So, what do you think of Dee-El-Ar so far?” Michael asks, bouncing a little on his heels. It takes Dean a second to realize he’s saying the initials of Disneyland Resort. 

“Oh… oh, yeah, so far so good,” Dean says. “I really haven’t had a chance to look around. I only got here like two days go.”

Michael’s eyes go wide. “Dude, really?” He exclaims. “Oh man, I had no idea. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone and show you around…”

“I think I’ll pick it up pretty-” Dean starts to protest.

“Everyone, this is Dean,” Michael shouts as he lays a hand on Dean’s shoulders and leads him though the lounge. “He’s our Maurizio…”

 

* * *

 

“C’mon!” Castiel growled through clenched teeth, turning the key in his ignition for the 20th time, as if trying to persuade the car to start out of sheer will. “Stupid piece of shit, hunk of junk, busted ass…” He lets out a stream on incoherent curses, even as he lovingly pets a hand along the dash. Instead, the car only responds with the dull “click-click” of the starter followed by zero signs of life.

“Son of a bitch,” he hisses. Castiel’s head drops onto the steering wheel with a thud, feeling miserable and helpless, as rain patters softly on the car roof. In normal circumstances, Castiel finds the sound comforting. Now though, alone and stranded on the side of the road at 12:30 am, the noise is anything but.

In the opposite lane, a semi truck passes, spraying beams of light across the car’s interior before splashing a wave of water over the outside. 

“Thanks for that, asshole,” Castiel says to no one in particular. He pulls his phone out of his pocket. He at least has signal and a charged battery; thank heaven for small miracles. He taps on “recent calls” and hits Gabriel’s name, but the call goes straight to voicemail again. His finger hovers over his contacts, his Disney friends still loaded in his phone, but Castiel can’t bring himself to dial any of their numbers. The shame of seeing any one of them face to face will make his crash-and-burn too real. 

His departure from the park had been unceremonious. Following a two week suspension, he’d been shuffled into Zachariah’s office and told he was no longer a “good fit” (their words) for the character program. They’d offered him a position at one of the hotels, saying it might be more suited for his personality, but Castiel had declined and put in his notice. 

He may not have much, but he had his pride.

_ A lot of good it’s doing me now _ , Castiel thinks with a bitter snort. 

He leans back in his seat, watching the oncoming vehicles and staring into the headlights until he sees spots. He could call a tow company, but then brushes the thought away. His job at the Gas n’ Sip barely covers his rent and gas. He can’t afford a tow; he could barely afford a mechanic.

For the first time in a month, Castiel thinks about Dean. Well, that’s not entirely true; he thinks about Dean almost every day, usually having heated one-sided arguments. Now, though, he misses Dean. Dean would be able to get the car working, gruffly complaining about Castiel’s lack of maintenance, but still helping him. Castiel would take the flack and maybe offer Dean blowjob in thanks.

Castiel sniffs and presses the heel of his palm into his eye. No, no he won’t do that. He’s a  fucking grown man, he’s not going to get weepy over some lost fuckbuddy. Especially one who had taken off without even talking to Castiel, not even a text goodbye. 

Stupid, self-involved jackass. 

Not that Castiel hadn’t deserved it. He’d been such a Prima Donna; less Prince Charming, more Gaston. Dean was probably glad to be rid of his dead weight. Honestly Castiel can't blame him.

Headlights glint in the rear view mirror, causing him to squint as a vehicle approaches. It takes Castiel a second to realize that it’s slowing and pulling onto the shoulder right behind him. 

“What the-?” In the reflections of light, Castiel sees the drivers’ side door open and a figure get out. Panic spikes in him, and he frantically pats around the front seat, wishing he had something to fight off a random drifter with. Instead, he’s met with a soft knock on his window.

“Hey.” even muted by the rain and the glass, Castiel can pick out it’s the voice of a young guy. “Hey, you need some help?” Castiel lifts his eyes, peering out his window. He’s unable to see anything aside from a lanky silhouette, hidden even more by a rain jacket. Against his better judgement, Castiel rolls open the window a crack. 

“What?” he asks. 

“You need help?” the guy asks again. “You’re just sitting off the highway with your hazards on. I wanted to make sure-”

“I’m fine. I was just about to call a tow truck,” Castiel lies. “Thank you for-”

“Well, I’ve got a tow truck back there.” He points a hand back toward his vehicle. Castiel twists around to look. Through the glare of the headlights,  he can make out the outline of the headlight bar and winch. Castiel turns back around, lowering his window a little more.

“I...uh… I can’t… I don’t have the money to-” Castiel tries to explain. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” The guy shakes his head. “C’mon. You can sit in the truck while I get everything hooked up.” Castiel wants to protest, out of politeness or for his safety, but this guy doesn’t seem particularly dangerous. If he wanted to attack or rob Castiel, he already would’ve, right?

Castiel opens his car door. As soon as he steps out he notices two things: the tow truck driver is very tall and also very young, probably not even old enough to drink. The guy gives castiel an easy smile and leads him toward the truck, getting into the driver’s seat. Castiel still feels uneasy, but it’s cold and raining and he's beyond exhausted. Right now, the kindness of strangers feels pretty good. 

“This should only take a few minutes,” he says as he shifts into drive and pulls around his stagnant Cadillac. “Feel free to fiddle with the radio. I usually have NPR playing, but you can turn it to whatever you want.”

Castiel wants to comment that he's never met anyone under the age of 28 who listens to NPR, but just mumbles “thank you” instead.

“I'm Sam, by the way,” he says, turning to look at Castiel. “Just sit tight, ok?”

“Uh, yeah,” Castiel stammers out. “Castiel, um. That's my name.” Sam nods and shuts the door, trudging through the rain to get to work. 

He sits in silence for a long moment, the monotone voice of the radio a steady hum, intercut with the swish of the wiper blades. He watches Sam's shadow in the distance as he works and wonders what his story is. 

Aside from the height, everything about this kid screams “fresh off of puberty,” from the slumped way he walks to the innocent charm in his personality. How does a teenager get a job driving a tow truck over-night? Isn’t that illegal or past curfew?

“How old are you?” Castiel blurts out as Sam hops back into the driver’s seat, pushing off his hood and running a hand through damp, shaggy brown hair.

“Just turned 18,” Sam answers with a light chuckle that tells Castiel he gets the question a lot.  _ Well, at least he’s legally an adult _ , Castiel thinks.

“And you parents have no problem with you going around and…” Castiel waves a hand in the air, “Driving around strangers?” Sam laughs again, but it’s a little tenser than before.

“Well, my uncle actually owns the company. He’s Singer.” Sam taps at the patch on his work shirt that reads “Singer’s Towing and Salvage.” Castiel makes a small noise of understanding and settles back into his seat, a blanket of silence falling over them. It lasts for a couple minutes, only cut by the sad horn music of NPR’s station breaks.

“So, what brought you out this way?” Sam asks glancing at Castiel out of his peripheral vision. “Kind of a bad location to get stranded.” Sam's not wrong; the highway around them stretches on for miles, hugged by thick shapeless woods and only the occasional billboard to break up the landscape.

“Uh, I just got off work,” Castiel admits, and then follows with. “I work at the Gas n’ Sip off of exit 254.”

“Alright,” Sam says. “I figured it had to be something like that. Do you like it?” Castiel is caught off guard by the question, because no one has ever asked him it, not even his manager, Nora.

“Not particularly,” he says, the words coming out before he can think to stop them.

“But it pays the bills, right?” Sam replies with a chuckle. “I know how that is.” He pats the dash of the truck. “I'm trying to earn som money before I head off to school in the fall.” Castiel nods politely. He sees the same look in the kid’s face that he sees in some of his late night customers- that desire to talk to another human, if only for five minutes.

As shitty as Castiel feels, his people skills aren't as rusty as he thought they'd be.

“Where you going?” He asks. “U of F? Miami?”

“Stanford, actually.” Sam says, trying to conceal his own pride in that fact. “Got my acceptance letter a couple months ago.”

“Oh, wow,” Castiel says, genuinely impressed. “That’s pretty far, huh.”

“Yeah, California. Up near San Francisco,” Sam says.

Castiel nods. “So venturing out on your own, huh?”

“Well, kind of. My brother is out there right now. He's going to help me get settled and everything.”

“That's nice of him.”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah. I kind of think it's his way of keeping an eye on me. I know he'd prefer it if I'd parked it here, even if he says otherwise.”

“I'm sure he's proud of you,” Castiel says. “Stanford is a very prestigious school.”

“Yeah, he says that,” Sam sighs. “I don't know. I kind of feel like… he's all about family and stuff, but it's possible to still be family and not always be in each other's space, y’know what I mean?” Castiel nods politely.

“Yeah, I get that,” he says, thinking about his own parents and remembering he probably should call them. They chat amicably back and forth for the rest of the ride, Castiel finding himself comfortably drawn into the conversation. Since leaving Disney, he hasn’t felt very social, not even with Gabriel, who continually tries to get Castiel to join him and his friends when they go out to the clubs downtown.

Talking to a teenaged tow truck driver is a far cry from that, but it’s exactly what Castiel needs right now. 

“So, we have a couple options,” Sam starts. “I can bring you by my uncle's salvage yard and he can take a look at your car, or I can see if there is an all-night mechanic open-”

“I appreciate that, Sam,” Castiel says. “But if it’s not too much trouble, do you think your could drop me off at home. I’ll call an auto repair service in the morning.” Sam gives him a concerned look, but nods. Castiel directs him toward his apartment complex, relief filling him as they approach it. 

He pulls the truck up close to the building, slowly moving backwards until Castiel’s car is situated in a parking spot.

“There we go,” Sam mumbles, the pride in his voice evident. He shifts into park and turns to Castiel.

“Are you sure you don’t need a mechanic?” Sam asks, his furrowed brow still evident, even when hid beneath the damp fringe of hair. “I’m sure Bobby would be-”

“Really, Sam, I couldn’t impose.” _I_ _couldn’t_ _pay_ _you_ , Castiel wants to say. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. 

“Here.” He hands over $23, nowhere near what a tow costs, but it’s what he has. “Please take-” Sam just holds out a flat palm and shakes his head. 

“Nah, man,” he says, “we’re good.” It now Castiel’s turn to look perturbed.

“No, please,” he insists, offering the handful of bills in Sam’s direction. “That's too generous, I can't-”

“Really, man, don't worry about it,” Sam says. “I was happy to help.” Castiel wants to protest more, but there's a finality to the kid’s voice that tells him not to argue.

It's oddly familiar.

Sam offers him a business card that reads “Singer Towing and Salvage” as he steps out of the cab. The rain has tapered off, but stray droplets still dot across Castiel's skin as he steps onto the sidewalk. Sam offers a wave through the window as he pulls out of the apartment complex parking lot and back onto the road. Castiel watches him disappear before turning and trekking up the stairs toward his apartment. 

He pushes any thoughts about his car from his mind; he’ll worry about that in the morning. Right now, he just wants to get some sleep.

At least one thing went right today, Castiel thinks.

 

* * *

 

Castiel doesn't believe he'll see Sam again. Why would he? Castiel doesn’t have money for repair work on his car and he’s already mortified enough that Sam did him a favor that would no doubt have cost him a few hundred dollars.

Still, Castiel sticks the business card on the fridge, letting Gabriel know if he ever needs a tow to call the number.

A couple weeks later, though, Castiel is nearing the end of a shift, restocking the shelves of cigarettes and humming along with the song being piped in through the busted speaker above him, when someone speaks up behind him.

“Hey Castiel.” Castiel startles and lets out a yelp as he hops around. “Whoa, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Sam stands in front of the counter, hands held up at his chest.

“Uh, hi… um, Sam,” Castiel says hesitantly. “What are you doing here?” He doesn’t intend for the question to come out so curt, but Sam has caught him off guard.

“You, uh, told me you worked here,” Sam offers in explanation, picking up on Castiel’s confusion. “I had to get gas anyway. Figured I’d stop in and say hi.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder toward the pumps where the tow truck sits, looking much more battered in the daylight

“Oh, yeah. Of course I did,” Castiel says, brushing his hands against the bright blue vest. “I’ll take care of that for you.” Sam pulls three twenties out of his wallet as Castiel rings him up.

“How’ve you been?” Sam asks. Castiel shrugs and nods. 

“As well as I can be,” he replies, not looking up from the register. 

“Car giving you anymore trouble?” Castiel lifts his head and offers Sam a half smile and shrug.

“Yeah, it’s… fine. Y’know, it’s an old car,” he admits. “My roommate has had to give me a jump a few times, but-”

“Sounds like you need a new battery,” Sam says, glancing down at the rows of candy bars in front of the counter and picking up a three musketeers, dropping it next to the cash register. “That too, please.”

“Yeah, probably,” Castiel mutters as he taps in the candybar. “Can’t really afford it right now, unfortunately, so...” Sam glances up, eyes narrowed; even beneath the mop of hair, Castiel can tell that his brows are furrowed together.

“Dude, I can help you out,” he says. “My uncle owns a salvage yard and-” Castiel cuts him off, holding up his hand.

“Thank you, Sam, but you’ve already been generous enough, I couldn’t ask-”

“You’re not asking,” Sam interjects. “I’m offering. Please, c’mon, let me do this.  Do you really want to get stranded on some highway again?” Castiel sighs and rubs between his eyes; he doesn’t want that, but he already feels obligated enough to Sam.  

“I can’t…”

“Just give me the make and model of your car, I’ll find out what kind of battery it has and if I happen to find a working one somewhere, I’ll give you a call.” Sam explains. “Easy.” Castiel sighs and levels his gaze at Sam. 

“You’re not giving up on this, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Sam says with a chuckle. Clearly this kid is tenacious as hell.

“Fine, just… Just don't go to too much trouble, alright? If you can't find anything, you can't find anything.” He presses a button on the printer next to the register, feeding out a length of receipt paper. He scratches down the make and model and his cell number. 

“I’m sure I will,” Sam says, taking the paper from Castiel and slipping it into his pocket. Castiel finishes his transaction and hands Sam his change. 

“See you around, Castiel,” Sam says, flashing him an easy grin and a wave as he pushes out the door, the chime dinging above his head as he does. Castiel watches the lanky kid cross the parking lot to the pumps. The creak of the truck door can be heard even from this distance, as can the slam as Sam slips into the driver seat. Castiel doesn't look away until the tow truck pulls out of the station and disappears down the road.

 

* * *

 

“So how do you like it so far?” Sam asks. Dean frowns as he tries to keep the cell phone pressed to his ear while also trying to pull on his tights. (“Jodhpurs” Michael likes to remind him).

“It's good,” Dean mumbles vaguely. “Different, y’know. Newer.”

“But it's older.” Dean can practically see Sam’s confused “bitch face” as he says this. 

“Yeah, but I mean… like, they've gotten rid of a lot of stuff and Cars Land is all new.” Dean says. “The castle is friggin’ tiny! So much smaller than Cinderella’s Castle. You're probably taller than it.” 

“Funny, Dean,” Sam replies sarcastically.

“But it's not bad or anything,” Dean continues, tugging on a boot. “It has a… chill vibe. Kind of what you expect out of California.” Sam hums into the phone in response. 

“So the people are cool?” Sam asks. “What about the guy you work with… uh, Pietro?” 

“Yeah, he's fine.” Dean isn't sure how to respond. Michael is… well, he's Michael. They don't talk much when they are not working, so Dean doesn't know too much about the guy except a) he's a halfway decent singer, meaning Dean isn't carrying them through the songs, and b) he is politely, but painfully, straight, an anomaly in the world of face characters. He never makes it obvious to the guests, but Dean can sense the trace amount of tension whenever he grabs for his hand and Michael is quick to drop it the moment they are backstage.

“Well, I'm looking forward to meeting the guy,” Sam says.

“Do you really think I'm going to drive your ass all the way down to Anaheim when you should be studying?” Dean says it as a joke, but he wants to get Sam off the topic of meeting any of his coworkers. He likes everyone here, but it's not like they are friends, more like friendly competition. Dean had actually considered his Disney World castmates his friends and he hadn’t even introduced Sam to any of them.

Not even Castiel.

The thought causes Dean to frown. He rises from the bench as if trying to physically move away from the bad feeling.

“Listen, Sam, I gotta get going in a minute. How are you doing? Preparing for school?”

“Yeah, y’know, just working,” Sam sighs. “I gotta about two thousand saved up so far and by the end of the-”

“Sam, why are you working?” he grouses, pacing across the locker room. “I told you, I’ll cover anything you need.”

“I want to to help out,” There’s a slight squeak in Sam’s voice as he blurts this out. “Plus, it’s not like towing cars is hard.”

“It’s not safe,” Dean says. “I’m going to talk to Bobby and-”

“No, Dean,” Sam says firmly. “I can do this. Just… Just trust me ok?” Dean bites at his lip. He doesn’t want to argue with Sam over the phone, but he doesn’t want his kid brother driving all over the county in the middle of the night alone. He used to drive that truck, he knows the kind of crazies that come out at that time. 

He bids Sam a goodbye with a promise to call him in a few days and hangs up his phone, slipping it into his locker. 

“Hey, Dean, you ready?” Michael steps into the locker, securing the last tie on his doublet. Dean still finds it surreal how everything about him is so similar to Castiel-not just the costume or the wings, but the clear blue eyes and high cut cheekbones- and yet vastly different. 

_Not_ _bad_ , _just…_ _different_ , Dean thinks.

“Uh, yeah,” he says as he hooks on his belt. “Almost.” Michael nods and drops down onto the bench, throwing a leg over it as he turns to face Dean. 

“Hey, can I talk to you about something?” Michael asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean mumbles as he takes a final look in the mirror, adjusting his hair.

“Would it be cool with you if… if you didn’t take my hand? During the song, I mean.” Dean turns around to face Michael, brow furrowed together,  He opens his mouth to say something, but Michael rushes out first.

“It’s not that I have a problem with gay people,” he says hurriedly. “I don’t, I swear, but… Look, I just don’t like… showing physical affection to anyone other than my girlfriend. Not even if it’s acting.” Michael rubs his hands together.

“Y’know it’s not real, right?” Dean asks. Michael glances away, embarrassed.

“I know, but…” He exhales through his nose heavily. “it puts off this emotional weight during the scene and I'm-” Dean holds up a hand to stop his babbling.

“No, dude, it’s fine. It’s cool,” he says. “I don’t want to… make you uncomfortable in your relationship.” He holds back rolling his eyes as Michael smiles at him; he's almost sure Michael is lying to him about it but they are 3 minutes from going on stage.

“Thanks for understanding, Dean,” he says. “We can still do the song. I know people like that.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, trying to sound casual, but he’s a little miffed by the change. The song was all about a bond and now they can’t even touch? Dean brushes his irritation aside and refocuses on getting ready. He can discuss this more with Michael after his shift.

“We’re coming,” Dean says, earning a bright smile and a nod from Donna as she disappears from the door. 

“After you,” he says to Michael holding out a hand. Michael thanks him as he moves past, his wings shaking and shifting as he moves.  

The harness is too loose, Dean notices, and he wonders if maybe he should volunteer to help Michael tighten it the way he used to help Castiel. He thinks better of it though; Michael probably wouldn’t appreciate Dean touching him. 

Dean frowns and follows Michael out the door.

 

* * *

 

Castiel’s phone chimes with a text tone for the fifth time in an hour. Gabriel glances over from the opposite side of the couch, raising a curious eyebrow.

“Who’s blowing up your phone over there, Castiel?” he asks. 

“It’s, uh,” Castiel hesitates as he thinks of how best to define Sam. “It’s a friend.”

“ _ ‘Friend _ .’” Castiel can practically hear the air quotes around Gabriel’s words. “Sure, Castiel, uh-huh. You got a new boyfriend, don’t you?” Castiel rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like that,” he says honestly. Despite Castiel’s doubts, Sam had found a battery for his old Cadillac on his uncle’s property (even if Castiel secretly believed the kid actually paid out of pocket for the item). After that, Sam continued to text him randomly about books, movies, things going on in his life. At first Castiel believed that maybe Sam had a crush on him, but he mentioned his girlfriend so often, it killed that theory pretty fast.

“We’re friends,” Castiel says staunchly. “It’s the guy who gave me a tow, remember?”

“The kid you said was barely outta high school?” Gabriel asks. A wry grin  crosses his face. “Castiel, you cradle robber.”

“It’s not like that!” Castiel glares at Gabriel. “He’s too young, for one, and two, he doesn't swing that way.” Castiel turns his attention back to his phone. Gabriel is quiet for a moment before piping up again. 

“So, then why does he keep texting you?”

Castiel shrugs. “I… I think he’s lonely,” he says. They’ve never spoken about it, but Castiel has gathered bits and pieces of information from their conversations. “His older brother moved away a few months ago and it sounds like they were close.” 

“So you’re what? Filling a void?” Gabriel asks, and Castiel can hear the titter of laughter in his voice but he ignores it.

“Yeah, I guess,” he says. Castiel doesn’t want to question why Sam is doing what he’s doing; if he's honest with himself, it feels good to have a friend who doesn’t know about what happened with the whole “Disney thing” or looks at him with pity, like Gabriel occasionally does. 

Sam just thinks of Castiel as Castiel and, frankly, he needs that right now. 

Gabriel hums and takes a sip from his beer bottle. “I still think you should sleep with him,” He says.

“What part of ‘straight’ did you not understand?” Castiel replies deadpan.

“‘Straight’ is a state of mind,” Gabriel points out. “I bet that kid would totally give it up if given the opportunity.”

“No, Gabriel.”

“Well, if you’re not going to , can I take a crack at him?” He flashes a wide sly, smile across the couch.

Castiel hits him with a pillow. 

 

* * *

 

“So, are you guys not doing the hand holding thing anymore?” Donna asks as they step backstage. Dean shakes off his vest, sweat causing his shirt to stick to his back.

“Uh, no,” Dean admits as he grabs a bottle of water off the table. He unscrews the top, taking three huge gulps and coughing inelegantly as it goes down the wrong pipe. “No, Michael… ah, he said it made him uncomfortable, because of his girlfriend or something.” Donna doesn't even attempt to hide her snort.

“Girlfriend? That guy?” She lifts an eyebrow. “If he does have a girlfriend, she needs to kick him to the curb. Guy’s kind of a skeeve. I've caught him slipping numbers to the female guests before.” Dean’s expression pinches together.

“But… I thought..”

“I'm not saying he's not uncomfortable… He totally is. Kept fighting tooth and nail when the bosses wanted to put him in this role.” Donna explains as she meticulously folds Dean’s vest and drapes it over the chair. “I think he's like uber-religious or something, but then again, can't keep his hands off the ladies. Sleeping Beauty and Jasmine got in a knock-down drag out fight because of him last year…” Donna keeps talking but Dean zones out, her words turning into a low hum as he pulls on a clean shirt.

Michael lied to him. Dean should be shocked or angry, but he's just disappointed. California was supposed to be a fresh start but it's just more of the same shit he dealt with in Orlando. 

“Hey Donna,” He says. “I'm going to grab a soda real fast alright? Take five minutes.” 

“Yeah, sure, ok,” she says brightly. “Can you bring me back a Diet Doctor Pepper?” Dean nods as he slips out of the room. He walks down the hall until he reaches a exit door, leading to the area where some of the cast members go to smoke. 

It's thankfully empty, and Dean takes the moment to lean against the wall and slump down until he resting on his haunches. He runs a hand over his brow. Trying to push back his frustration. 

He finds his phone inside his pants and takes it out. He flips through his contacts, wondering if there is anyone he can vent to for a few minutes. Sam is no doubt sleeping and he doesn't want to have to leave a message on Charlie or Jo’s voicemails.

He could call Bobby, but complaining about his life in California is going to earn him no sympathy from the other man.

Castiel’s name crosses his screen; Dean’s thumb hovers over the name, debating calling it. Would Castiel even want to talk to him? What if Dean apologized?

No. That ship sailed.

Dean sighs and clicks his phone off, slipping it back in his pocket. He gets to his feet and stretches, lifting his arms over his head. 

“Get moving, Dean,” he mutters to himself.

 

* * *

 

Castiel startled awake by the sound of his phone going off. He flails wildly to find it, trying to focus his eyes enough to look at the screen.

It's an unknown number. Castiel is ready to mute it when something tells him to pick up the phone; maybe it's some sort of emergency with his parents or something. He swipes a thumb across the screen.

“Hello?” His voice comes out slurred with sleep. A robotic voice answers. 

“This is a collect call from the Orange County County Jail from…” There's a momentary pause, followed by an anxious sounding “uh… Sam.” Castiel is instantly awake. 

The robotic voice returns. “Do you accept these charges?” 

“Yes,” Castiel blurts out, his own voice sleep-rough and slurred. The line clicks once more and the sound of breathing follows. “Sam?”

“Castiel?” Sam's voice cracks as he speaks.

“Sam? What's going on?” Castiel swings his legs over the bed and reaches across for the lamp on the side table. “Are you… Are you in jail.” A tearful sniff confirms His suspicion that Sam is crying.

“I'm sorry,” Sam mumbles. “I don't want to bother you. It's just… I, I have nobody else I can call and…” a sharp inake of breath, an involuntary sob. “And I don't have money for bail or…”

“Sam, Sam, slow down.” Castiel is already dressing as he hurriedly throws on clothes, not bothering to check if anything even matches or is clean. “Just… tell me what's going on.” 

Sam sniffs again and starts to explain. “I was out with Ruby and her dad called the cops and said I kidnapped her...” Sam begins but Castiel can't keep track of the story.

“Ok, ok, Sam, breath,” Castiel says. “First, where are you, specifically?”

“The county jail, I'm… not sure where.” There's yelling in the background, someone no doubt telling Sam the information. “Orange Grove Road.”

“Ok,” Castiel says. “I'll be down there in a little while. Do you know how much your bail is?”

“No,” Sam murmurs, and Castiel can practically see the head shake. “I don't… Please don’t tell my uncle!” 

“I won't,” Castiel promises, as he shrugs on his coat. He gathers a few more details from Sam before hanging up with a promise to be there soon. Castiel grabs his keys from the table by the door and, as he's about to leave, has a sudden idea. He turns and walks back through the apartment. 

“Gabriel!” He shouts, banging on the door with a heavy fist. “Gabriel, wake the fuck up!” Mumbled curses come from beyond the door before it swings open revealing a rumpled looking Castiel.

“The actual fuck, Castiel?” He mutters, pushing a long strand of hair out of his face. 

“I have a friend in trouble,” he says, pushing into Gabriel’s room and grabbing his coat off the desk chair, throwing it toward him. “And I need you… and your Lawyer.” Gabriel’s eyes abruptly blink open wide.

“Which one?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“The one Satan would call if he needed a lawyer.” Gabriel’s mouth flexes and he scratches at the stubble across his chin.

“Roman don't come cheap,” he warns. 

“I don't care.” Castiel throws Gabriel’s coat at his chest. “Get his phone number and lets go.”

 

* * *

 

It only takes them about a 45 minutes to get to the county jail and then another 30 minutes to convince Dick Roman Esq. to pull his ass out of bed to meet them. 

Castiel gave him an abbreviated version of Sam’s story, what he gathered from it anyway, receiving no response until the very end when Roman finally mutters “Right. On my way. Tell Gabriel we’re even.” Castiel gives Gabriel a questioning look as he passes him back the phone. 

“Don't ask unless you really want to know,” Gabriel sighs, shoving his phone back in his pocket. 

The county jail is surprisingly bustling for two am and Castiel and Gabriel are still in line to talk to the desk clerk when Roman strides in. Castiel notices how the guy is actually in a three piece suit, looking rather smart, despite having just been woken up. 

He offers a couple of friendly smiles to some familiar detainees as he approaches the pair. 

“Step aside, gentlemen,” he says with airy confidence. “I can take it from here.” Gabriel looks at Castiel and shrugs, leading back to the main waiting area.

Gabriel passes out on Castiel’s shoulder almost instantly, and Castiel starts dozing not long after, lulled asleep by the sound of infomercials on the buzzy TV above him. He's roused by Roman shaking his arm. 

“Guys, wakey wakey,” he says as both Gabriel and Castiel jolt awake.

“What's going on?” Gabriel asks.

“Well, good news and bad news,” Roman says, slipping his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “Good news is that your boy Sam, is, technically in the clear. He didn't commit any crime.”

“Really?” Castiel’s expression brightens and then falls. “Wait… what's the bad news?”

“They already booked him,” Roman sighs. “If the kid was hoping for no marks on his record, that’s not going to happen.”

“He's going to jail?” Gabriel blurts out. “For a joyride?”

“Actually it was a grand theft auto charge,” Roman corrects. Castiel’s jaw drops open. 

“He stole a car!?” He squawks, “But… he said…”

“Would you keep your voice down?” Roman hisses. “It was a false report. His girlfriend’s father was being a dick and filed a report after they got in a fight earlier tonight. That man is in  _ a lot _ of trouble, let me tell you.” 

“Sam,” Castiel says. “What about Sam? Is he really going to jail after this?”

“C’mon!” Roman holds out his hands sardonically. “What kind of lawyer do you take me for?” Castiel has to bite his lip to keep from answering that question honestly. “Of course, he's not. Kid did nothing wrong. Even a two-bit ambulance chaser could've cleared him.” 

“So where is he?” Gabriel asks. 

“He's coming out now,” Roman says. “He has a minor fee to pay and some paperwork to sign, but the kid’s fine.” Roman looks at Gabriel pointedly. “I'm still going to be paid, Gabriel. Don't forget.” Gabriel grimaces but nods.

Sam steps through the swinging doors past the clerk’s desk a few minutes later looking haggard and sleepless. He catches Castiel’s gaze for a brief moment, he eyes full of shame and regret before looking away. Castiel reaches out, giving the kid a comforting squeeze. 

Castiel catches Gabriel giving the kid a long once-over and shoots him an icy stare to stop. 

“You doing ok, Sam?” Castiel asks. Sam nods. 

“Yeah, I'm just…” He clears his throat. “I'm sorry for pulling you out here like this. You didn't have to so, thank you.” Castiel waves a hand.

“Don't worry about it, Sam,” he says. “I'm glad to help… you would've done the same.” Sam raises his head and gives Castiel a smile that says, yes, he would’ve. 

“So what happened exactly?” Gabriel interjects, slipping between them. “Oh and I'm Gabriel, by the way. Castiel’s roommate and the guy who brought the lawyer.” Sam blinks awkwardly.

“Uh, ok, yeah… thank you, too,” he says. “I… I don't really know. Ruby my girlfriend, well, I guess ex-girlfriend now, she called me and said she had a fight with her dad and could I come over.”

“How'd you get there?” Castiel asks. 

“Bus. Bobby had the truck tonight, so that's how I usually get to and from places.” Sam says. “Anyway I get there and Ruby is waiting outside and has a pair of keys and is asking me if I've ever driven a Porsche before. So I said no and she pushes me into the garage and tells me to get in the car and we’ll just take a spin around the block.” He scrubs a hand over his face in either exhaustion or embarrassment, Castiel can't tell. For the first time in a long time, it hits Castiel how young Sam really is.

“Let me guess?” Gabriel asks. “She didn't tell Daddy she was taking the car.” Sam shakes his head.

“I… I didn't even think of that at the time,” he admits. “We were just driving around and talking and stuff. When the cop pulled us over, I was like, ready to explain and Ruby starts freaking out and screaming at me to hit the gas…” Castiel grimaces; at this point he can fill in the rest of the details of the night. He steps closer to Sam and places a hand on his shoulder. 

“It's alright, Sam,” he says. “Everything has been cleared up. Roman will take care of it.”

“I… I'll pay you back, I promise,” Sam stammers out, glancing between the two men. Gabriel waves a hand in the air.

“Forget about it, Sam,” he says. “It’s-l

“No,” Sam says firmly. “No, I need to pay you back. It's my responsibility and…” The forlorn look returns to Sam’s expression.

“That's fine,” Castiel says gently. “Take your time. How about we get you home now?” They start to leave when a uniformed officer strides out of the swinging doors.

“Mr. Winchester?” Castiel freezes in his tracks. Sam twists his head at the name, walking toward the officer and talking for a moment before signing some paperwork. 

“Winchester?” Castiel mutters, more to himself than anyone else. He feels like the floor has dropped out from beneath him as the parts of the puzzle start to rejoin and reform. Sam had never mentioned his brother’s name, Castiel is sure of that, but Dean has sure as hell talked about his own brother “Sammy” a lot. How many Winchesters can there possibly be in Orlando? Does Sam know who Castiel is? His connection to Dean? A raw ball of anger calcifies in Castiel’s gut over the possibility that Sam betrayed his trust or lied to him somehow. 

As the officer leaves and Sam turns back to join them, a grateful smile fills his expression and Castiel’s doubt is pushed aside. He may not know Sam very well, but the kid is genuine in the same way that Dean was. Honest to a fault even. 

“Sorry about that,” Sam says. 

“It’s fine, Sam,” Castiel offers, trying to keep his voice even. “Let’s, uh… Let’s get you home.”

Gabriel chatters happily with Sam the entire drive back to his uncle’s place. Sam seems to appreciate the distraction from the evening, his mood lifting as they talk. Castiel doesn’t speak the entire drive back, his mind too restless to follow the conversation. Luckily, neither Gabriel or Sam seem to notice, too caught up in their own conversation.

The sun is just breaking the horizon as Castiel pulls the Cadillac down a gravel lane to what looks like an auto yard. A shabby bungalow sits squat in the center of the mess.

“You can just pull up here,” Sam says, catching Castiel’s confused look. He throws the car into park and Sam tips his head toward the outside. “Castiel, can I talk to you for a moment?” 

Castiel’s jaw clenches, and he expects Sam to admit knowing who Castiel is. He steps out of the driver’s seat slowly. 

“I… I just want to say goodbye,” Sam says, quietly. “I’m heading out to school in a few days.”  Castiel blinks; he should’ve expected this, but for some reason he hadn’t.

“Oh, well… It was very nice meeting you Sam,” he says. Sam nods.

“Same,” Sam says with a nod. “And thank you, for everything.”

“Well, My pleasure.”

“I mean it, you… you saved my ass today. I don't know what I would've done other wise,” Sam continues. 

“Well, I'm sure you have other friends-”

“Not that I can count on to come bail me out of jail,” Sam interrupts. “Or bring a lawyer with them. I really appreciate having you as a friend, Castiel.” Castiel offers a smile even as he looks at the ground awkwardly. He knows maybe he should say something to Sam about Dean and their connection, but he just offers an awkward nod instead.

“Well, uh, you're welcome, Sam,” he says. 

“Keep in touch, too.” Sam points a finger at him. “You have my cell number and- Hey, what's your Facebook name-” 

“I don't have one,” Castiel answers quickly. In a moment of self pity and regret, he'd deleted every social media account he had. Until now, he'd never seen a purpose in signing up again. “Uh...sorry. But, yeah, I'll text you.”

Sam flashes him an easy smile. “Cool,” he says. There is a second of hesitation and then Sam speaks again. “Hey, Castiel, can I be honest about something?”

“Sure.”

“I know this isn't where you want to be.” Sam waves his hand vaguely, indicating his surroundings. “Working at a Gas n’ Sip in central Florida.”

“It's fine.” The lie comes out too easy.

“No, it’s not,” Sam says. “Look, you don't really talk about it but it's pretty clear you're not happy.” Castiel opens his mouth to protest but can't seem to find the words. 

“You don't have to listen to me,” Sam continues. “I'm probably overstepping but… as your friend, if there is anything else you want to do or anywhere else you want to be, I think you should follow that urge. You are better than this.” The words are an echo of the words he used to hear from Dean. For a brief second the resemblance between Dean and Sam becomes so uncanny, Castiel isn't sure how he ever missed it.

“Thank you, Sam,” is all Castiel can say. Sam’s smile widens and he unexpectedly pulls Castiel into a bear hug.

“This is where you hug back,” he says. Castiel moves his arms around Sam, patting a hand on his back. There’s a creak as the passenger door opens.

“Castiel, I hate to break up the love fest,” Gabriel says as he pushes himself out of the car. “But we really should get home and get to bed. You have work in…” He glances at his watchless wrist. “This morning.” Sam snorts and he pulls back from the hug.

“I’ll let you guys go.” He lifts a hand in a wave as he retreats toward the house. “Bye, Castiel, Gabriel.” Castiel waits until Sam slips inside before walking around the car and slipping into the driver’s seat. He lets his head fall back against the headrest. 

“Everything ok?” Gabriel asks.

“Yeah, he’s just wanted to say goodbye. He’s moving across the country this week.” Castiel scrubs a hand over his face. “Would you be able to drive? I’m drained.”

“Yeah, sure.” The scramble across the bench seat to switch place and Gabriel starts the car. Castiel leans his head against the window, watching the eerie morning light bathe the passing world in blue shadows. Sam’s words repeat in his head, or maybe they are Dean’s; either way, Castiel can’t seem to quiet them.

He slips his phone from his pocket, browsing through his contacts until he finds a single name. 

_ Hey, Balthazar. It’s Castiel.  _ He starts a new message.  _ How’s LA? _

 

* * *

 

_ 3 months later _

“You know, you don’t have to come up here  _ every _ weekend,” Sam says, moving aside to let Dean into his dorm room. 

“You getting sick of my pretty face already, Sam?” Dean asks, as he steps past Sam. It’s small, the limited space growing more cluttered with Sam’s papers and textbooks every time he visits. Dean glances over his shoulder at his brother. “Jesus, I swear you shot up another inch. You trying to break through the ceiling, stretch?” Sam offers him a tired smile.

“What I mean,” Sam sighs, “is that I could come see you… in Anaheim. There’s no reason for you to be driving seven hours each way every single-.”

“Sam, the only thing to do in Anaheim is Disneyland and watch hockey, and I don’t like hockey.” Dean drops his duffel bag onto a bare spot on the floor. “And I really don’t want to spend an off day at the park. Plus, I like driving and this gives you a chance to get off campus, get some real groceries-”

“Well, actually…” Sam says. “I have a friend who took me to the farmers’ market a couple days ago.” Dean turn to face him, blinking in surprise. 

“You have a friend with a car?” he asks. “What’s his name? I want to meet this guy.”

“Dean,” Sam slumps down onto his bed in exasperation. “Can you switch off older brother mode for a minute?”

“Hey, if this guy is a bad influence-”

“ _ She _ is not a bad influence.” Sam emphasizes the word. “She’s my study partners from a couple of classes.”

“She?” Dean says, a grin spreading across his face. “Sam, do you have a girlfriend? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Sam replies, but from the shy twist of his smile, it’s clear he hopes that she might be one day. “We’re both on the pre-law track and have similar schedules. We study together.”

“What’s her name?” Dean settles on the edge of Sam’s desk and leans his hands on his thighs.

“Jessica,” Sam admits. He spares a quick look at his phone. “And we were actually planning on meeting up in about 15 minutes to compare our notes for a quiz on Monday.”

“Well, I’ll come with you,” Dean says, standing up straight. “Need to make sure this girl is right for you.”

“ _ Dean,” _ Sam whines as he stand to his full height. Dean lets out a cackle.

“I'm kidding, Sam,” he says, clapping him on the back. “I wouldn't cock block you like that.”

“I’m not-”

“Anyway,” Dean cuts him off, “what if I gave you a lift at least? You can do your study group thing and then afterward we can grab some dinner and talk.” A weary look passed across Sam’s eyes, but his face lights up after a moment.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” he says. “Let me get cleaned up a little and we can get going.” Dean squeezes Sam’s shoulder as he grabs his bathroom caddy. 

“Yeah, go wash your balls, Sammy,” Dean mutters. Sam gives an annoyed huff and mutters “it's not like that” under his breath as he leaves.

Dean flops down onto Sam's bed, glancing around the the still-unfamiliar surroundings. It’s so strange that, after so many years of sharing a living space with Sam, this room is absolutely Sam’s alone. Dean tamps down the traitorous feeling that this is the first step in Sam being rid of him, instead focusing on the details of the dorm. Everything about the space screams “Sam”, from the horrible Vince Vicente poster on the wall to the stacks of books and magazines on the floor beneath his computer desk, no doubt forwarded to him from Bobby’s place. 

Dean reaches for a copy of entertainment weekly, but as he grabs the magazine, a folded piece of paper slips from beneath it and onto the floor. Dean picks it up but stops when his eyes focus on the header across the top.

“Florida Department of Law Enforcement” it reads. Dean frowns and he picks it up, his eyes scanning the document and immediately spotting Sam’s full name. A bright green sticky note sits attached to the paper, tight, neat handwriting scrawled across it. 

_ “Look, what I got expunged. No worries for your future career in law. Keep me in mind. One hand washes the other- Dick” _

“Expunged?” Dean says outloud to the empty room. “What would Sam need to get expunged?” Dean scans over the rest of the document, expression darkening as he reads on.

“Dean?” Dean flinches at the sound of Sam’s voice but doesn’t lift his eyes from the paper. “Dean, what are you doing?” 

“You were arrested?!” he gawps, meeting Sam’s gaze.

“You went through my mail?” Sam squawks incredulously.

“It fell on the floor,” Dean argues. “I didn’t go looking.”

“And that gives you a right to read it?”

“If my little brother got arrested for grand theft auto, then yeah,” Dean shouts. Sam lifts a hand to shush him

“Would you keep your voice down!?” he hisses. “I have neighbors. And it was a misunderstanding. Ruby’s dad…”

“I should’ve figured Ruby had something to do with this.” Dean scrubs a hand down his face in exasperation..

“Dean would you give me a chance to explain?” Sam asks calmly, leaning against the edge of his desk. “It’s not what you think.” Dean stares at his brother for a moment before crossing his arms.

“Talk,” he orders.

Sam spills the the story in a matter of minutes, the words tumbling out of his mouth like a flood. 

“I got it, I got it,” Dean sighs, holding out a hand to stop him. He paces back and forth across the short distance of the room, his expression pinched. He doesn’t like this situation one bit, but clearly Sam learned his lesson; It raises several other questions, though. 

“So who the hell is this Dick guy?”

“A lawyer… uh,  _ my  _ lawyer, I guess,” Sam replies. 

“And how did you meet this guy?” Dean knows lawyers don’t come cheap, and for someone like this Dick Roman guy to just emerge from the woodwork to help Sam, seemingly out of the kindness of his heart seems… shady.

“Friend of a friend,” Sam offers with a shrug. “The guy who I called to bail me out, his roommate knew him and I guess Dick owed him a favor or-”

“Why didn’t you call Bobby?” Dean knows that Bobby can be kind of gruff, but he wouldn’t embarrass or chastise Sam too badly for a little felony charge. 

Sam shakes his head. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to worry him,” he says. “And Castiel is a good guy I figured-”

“Wait? Castiel?” Dean whips his head up as his brain finally connects with what Sam is saying. 

“Yeah, he’s a friend of mine,” Sam says. “I met him when I towed his car. We’d talk sometimes, text. He and his roommate Gabriel came out to help me, no questions asked.” Dean stares unblinking at his brother, feeling like the room has just tipped on its side. 

Is this his Castiel? Oh, Of course it is. With a name like that, he has no doubt it’s the same guy. Did he know who Sam was?

“He just came and bailed you out?” Dean asks, a little incredulously. “Why?” After the fallout from their relationship, he can’t believe Cas didn’t just write Dean and anyone connected to him off. 

But no, that’s not  who Castiel was, or  _ is _ , as the case might be. Castiel’s not the type of guy to  hold Dean’s sins over his brother’s head.

Sam shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t know,” he admits. “I was kind of desperate when I called him and there was no one else who I could ask to help me. He just… did.” Dean’s head swims and he has to sit down. He sinks onto Sam’s bed. 

“You’re not mad are you?” Sam’s voice sounds very small and fragile. Dean looks up at him, his mouth a tight line.

“Not gonna lie, Sam,” he says. “I’m not pleased. Why didn’t you say anything? Why were you hiding this?” Sam gives another little shrug and Dean can guess the reason.

“I didn’t… I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he admits, “or worry you. You have your own things going on out here-”

“Sam-”

“... and you didn’t need to stress out over me when I’m across the country and there was nothing you could do about it.” The last words come out in a rush and guilt settles low in Dean’s stomach. He knows he can be a little overprotective of Sam, but the kid is as stubborn as himself and he remembers the kind of dumb decisions he made at Sam’s age.  

“It’s alright, Sam,” Dean says, hoping he can mask the lie in his voice. He pats the space on the bed next to him and Sam sits down. “You… took care of things. But you know you don’t have to hide things like this from me. I’m not going to yell at you or anything.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam sighs and runs a hand through his too-long hair. “I just… I don’t want to disappoint you.” Dean pats him on the back, trying to provide some sort of comfort.

“You’re going to be late for you date,” Dean says, giving Sam a pointed look.

“It’s not a-” Sam starts to protest but thinks better of it and shakes his head instead. “Yeah, I should probably hurry if I’m going to meet Jessica.”

“Tell you what.” Dean reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, extracting a pair of twenties and handing them to Sam. “After you’re done studying, why don’t you take this Jessica out for coffee or dinner or something. My treat.”

“Dean,” Sam mumbles in disbelief. “I can’t-’

“Don’t argue. Just say thank you.” 

“What about you? Didn’t you want to get dinner too?” Sam asks. 

“I’ll be fine. I’ll grab a burger someplace close by,” he replies. “Go have fun with this girl. We have the whole weekend.” Sam grins broadly and swallows Dean up in a bear hug tight enough to squeeze the wind out of him. He snatches his backpack off the floor and shouts a quick goodbye as he dashes out. 

As soon as the door closes, Dean falls onto the bed once more, reclining out.  He’s still in disbelief about Castiel going out of his way to help Sam and find him a lawyer, one good enough to get him out of a felony auto theft charge. 

Was Cas trying to send a message? Did he think that getting on Sam’s good side was the way back into Dean’s life? Dean never introduced Sam and Cas; the only members of Dean’s family he’d ever met were dad and his… Adam, and that had been completely accidental. 

Dean’s mind dithers between pissed off, grateful, and confounded. He pulls his phone out and opens the browser, tapping in Castiel’s name. There are many results, but nothing more recent than a few years ago. Dean smiles as he browses through a Newspaper article featuring a young Castiel in a local theater troupe in Illinois. It’s cute, but it doesn’t lead to any info about how to reach him. Dean closes the browser and taps his phone against his chin before getting an idea. 

Dean no longer had Cas’ phone number, not bothering to add it when he got his new phone, but he did have other numbers. He scrolls through the list of names, smiling as he stops on one and tapping it to call. The phone rings twice before a familiar voice answers.

“Dean! Calling out of the blue to mingle with the wee folk. What’s up, bitch? How’s Cali?” 

“It’s great, Charlie,” Dean says with a laugh, happy to hear his friend’s voice. “How are you?”

“Eh, you know how it is,” she sighs. “Same wig, different day.”

“They still haven't gotten you a better Merida wig?” Dean asks with disbelief.

“No!” Charlie squawks. “I've been telling them for ages that that thing makes my head itch like a beast. I even volunteered to do my own hair in the same style, but they weren't having any of it. They said it's all about being  _ homogenous.”  _

_ “ _ Yeah I can believe that,” Dean says, staring up at Sam’s ceiling. Homogenous was definitely the “Word du Jour” at Disneyland as well.

“So is this just a social call to check up on all your friends in Florida?” Charlie asks, “or are you calling with something more important.”

“It’s social,” Dean says, his voice kind of rising at the half-truth, “but I do have a favor to ask as well.”

“Alright. Spill?”

“I was wondering if the next time you see Castiel, you could tell him to give me a call.” Dean asks, unintentionally bracing himself for her answer.

“Castiel?” Charlie asks. “I haven’t seen him in months.”

“He doesn’t still work there?” Dean asks, sitting up on the bed. He knew Castiel was close to aging-out but he hadn’t thought it was this soon.

“No, no, he left like right after you guys had that blow out in the locker room.”

“He quit?” Dean asks in disbelief. He’d barely got a reprimand before he left; if he’d known Castiel was going to take the brunt of it…

“Yeah, crazy, right?.” Charlie replies. “They put him on suspension and then he just quit and… kind of vanished.” 

“What do you mean ‘vanished’?” 

“Well, no one’s really talked to him.” Charlie says. “I’ve seen a few former cast members around and no one has ever been able to get in touch with Castiel. I think Meg tried a couple weeks ago and his phone was officially shut off.” Dean’s heart sinks to his ankles. He’d been hoping maybe one person might have a way to contact Castiel.

“Would anyone else know where he might be?” Dean asks. “Balthazar or-”

“Oh, Balth is gone, too,” Charlie replies. “He’s ‘pursuing his dream’, whatever that might be. Banging the entire Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, I suspect.” Dean huffs a laugh, trying to hide his disappointment. 

“What is this about, Dean?” Charlie asks. “Haven’t spoken to you in months and then out of the blue you call wanting to know the whereabouts of a guy who you had a massive fight with.”

“We didn’t have a massive-” Dean starts to argue but Charlie cuts him off.

“ _ Bup, bup, bup _ ,” she says. “Cut the BS, get to it.” Dean sighs and rubs at his temple.

“Look, Castiel… did me a favor, ok? I didn’t even know about it, I don’t think he intended me to find out, and I just found out and. I need to reach out and bury the hatchet. I owe him that.” There’s a pause and then Charlie speaks again.

“You guys going to kiss and make up?” She asks, not attempting  to hide the hope in her voice. Instinctively, Dean wants to deny, but he realizes there is no point to it. 

“I don't know,” he admits. “I said some awful things-”

“You both did,” Charlie says.

“No excuse,” Dean replies “and even after that, Castiel still helped me even though he didn't have to. I need to at least thank him.” 

“If you don't mind me asking,” Charlie says. “What did he do?”

“He helped my younger brother not ruin his life,” Dean sighs, and then adds. “He was there for Sam when I couldn't be.” Charlie makes a thoughtful noise.

“Well, I'll reach out and ask everyone if they are still touch with the guy or if they might know how to contact him,” she offers. “But we all had the same phone number you did. Have you tried Google yet?”

“No, just you and the Pony Express, Charlie,” Dean says sarcastically. “Yeah, I did. There was really nothing out there. A few local newspaper spots of some plays he was in in Illinois. Couldn’t find a Facebook Page or any other sort of social media.”

“Maybe he’s under a different name,” Charlie offers.

“That doesn’t do me much good,” Dean says a little bitterly.

“I'll keep my ear to the ground, Dean,” she replies, “Maybe put my hacking skills skills to work.”

“Hacking Skills?” Dean asks incredulously. “What hacking skills.”

“There are things about me you don’t know, Dean Winchester,” Charlie remarks. “I could be an internationally wanted hacker and cyber criminal. You don’t know.” Dean laughs and changes the topic, asking about mutual friends and telling Charlie to send his regards to the rest of the crew. As he hangs up, Dean settles back on Sam’s bed; He’s back to square one. 

Just the thought of Castiel going out of his way to help out Dean’s family, and doing so without an expectation of anything, has the guilt in Dean’s gut growing. Cas had no reason to assist Sam and yet he still did. Maybe it was for Dean’s  sake, maybe it wasn’t; either way Dean needs to reach the guy.

 

* * *

 

Balthazar narrows his eyes at the photograph, Castiel’s soulful eyes staring back at him, his mouth set in a hard line meant to look brooding and dramatic. 

“You like them?” Castiel asks, nodding toward the image. 

“Yes, it’s a good headshot, Castiel,” Balthazar says. “Shame it’s not in color, so they could show off those baby blues.” Castiel shrugs.

“Ketch says it’s ‘industry standard,’”  Cas says, parroting his agent’s words.

“Was the name change his idea as well?” Balthazar asks wryly, turning over the headshot to read Castiel’s acting resume, the name “Steve Novak”  written across the top. 

“He said ‘Castiel’ would be too difficult for casting directors to pronounce at first glance,” he explains. “‘Steve Novak’ is more classic Hollywood leading man.” Balthazar gives a reluctant hum in agreement.

“Can’t disagree there. ‘Balthazar’ certainly isn’t grabbing me many jobs. Maybe I should change my name.” He looks up at Castiel with a grin. “What do you think about ‘Jerry’?  _ Jerry _ .” Castiel frowns and shakes his head. 

“No”

“Mikael?”

“Hmmm… Maybe.” Castiel says, taking his headshot back and slipping it into a manilla envelope with the rest. “I need to go, though. I have to be at the audition by 10:30.”

“Ah, what's it for this time?” Bal asks, folding his arms over his chest.

“A few lines in a soap opera,” Castiel says. “Not much, but I will probably be able to apply for my SAG membership if I get it.” Balthazar nods. His smile is warm, but Castiel can sense the jealousy rolling off of him. He's been here months longer and he hasn't been to more than cattle call try-outs for bad reality shows.

“If… if you want to come with me…?” Castiel offers hesitantly, but Balthazar waves his hand.

“No, no, I won't hone in on your potential job,” Balthazar sighs. “Lord knows one of us need to pull in some real money… Outside of the Coffee Bean, I mean.” Castiel offers a smile and waves goodbye as he grabs his keys and walks out the door.

He hops down the steps of their second floor apartment down to the parking lot. Truthfully he feels bad to be getting work when Bal really  _ isn't.  _ It's not even like he and Balthazar are competing for the same roles: Castiel's agent cherry picks a lot of “boy next door” and “hot nerd” roles, while Balthazar’s agent can’t seem to nail down his type.  

He knows Bal doesn’t hold it against him, not at least as far as Castiel can tell, but his disappointment is evident. it's clear that life in LA isn't turning out how he thought it would. 

Castiel starts his car and pulls out of his space and turns to drive down the road. He should be focusing on his audition right now, but Castiel wants to help his friend. He wants to make him feel better. 

He's halfway into the valley before an idea comes to him.

 

* * *

 

Dean stares at his phone, scrolling through page after page of fruitless google results. He’d gotten the idea earlier that maybe searching for “Cassy Novak” might bring up something, but it hadn't. 

He sighs heavily and exits out of his browser before opening up his email, praying that the search alert he placed on Castiel’s name might bring something up. Again, nothing. He’d tried calling Castiel’s cell number dozens of times but the same recorded voice stating that “your call cannot be completed” keeps answering.

Dammit, why couldn't people have landlines anymore?

Dean’s search for Castiel was becoming something of an obsession. This wasn't about telling him thank you for what he did for Sam anymore or having closure, it was bigger than that. In the last few weeks, Dean had begun to realize that his feelings for Castiel hadn't faded or changed. If nothing else, absence had made them stronger.

It had also made his own mistakes glaringly obvious. Dean had been in the wrong during their fight and his exit, but he had also failed by not telling Castiel how he felt. Maybe if he'd just admitted how deeply his feelings ran, he and Cas could have made a go at a long distance thing. Hell, Castiel could've come out to California with Dean and pursued an  _ actual _ acting career, not just dressing up and letting kids hang off of him like a jungle gym.

He lets his head fall back against the wall with a groan.

“Five minutes, Dean,” Donna says as she brushes by, making a beeline toward the tunnel entrance. She stops and looks back at him. “Have you seen Michael anywhere?” She raises an eyebrow but Dean just gives a lazy nod as he takes a swig off of water bottle.

“Smoke break,” he says. How a guy like Michael can sing the way he does and have a half-pack a day habit is beyond him. Donna frowns deeply and retreats through the doors, mumbling under her breath.

Dean's phone suddenly vibrates with a text message. He glances down to see a text from Sam.

_ Taking my last midterm at 10 am. If you don't want to pick me up, Jess said her parents could drop me off on their way down to Murrietta. _

Dean frowns at the screen and he wonders if this is Sam’s tactful way of telling him he wants more time with his “She’s not my girlfriend” before parting ways for Spring Break. Not that he can blame Sam; Jess is a dime. Hell, she could easily step into the glass slippers of any of the Cinderellas in the cast. 

**_I don't mind driving._ ** Dean texts back.  **_But if you want to spend a few more hours cuddled up with Jess I understand._ ** He chuckles when Sam shoots back an eye roll emoji. 

Dean rises from the chair as he spots Michael rounding the corner, wings pitifully askew. Dean would say something, but seriously fuck this guy. What had begun as a weird distance between them had grown into full-on contention, backstage at least. Michael was smart enough never to be blatant in his distaste for Dean or his “lifestyle” during working hours, but he'd heard enough people talk about how Michael hated playing the “Gay Prince” and wanted out of it as soon as possible. 

As far as Dean was concerned, he was welcome to leave. The days when he took off and Dean was put with a substitute were far more palatable. Truthfully, the shine had begun to wear off of the whole job months ago, not that there had been much shine to begin with. He had never been a zealot for all things Disney the way Cas and Charlie were, but it was hard not to get swept up in the initial fervor, especially when you were working with people that you liked and wanted to be around.

“Earth to Dean!” Michael’s voice instantly snaps Dean from his reverie. “You ready to go?”  _ Been waiting on your ass,  _ Dean wants to retort, but he holds back.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. His phone chimes with another text from Sam. “Let me just get this real quick.” Michael rolls his eyes and huffs off to the staging area as Donna sidles up beside him. 

“He's in a mood today,” she says under her breath to Dean, her eyes still following Michael as he leaves. 

“When is he not in a mood?” Dean mutters with a sarcastic snort. Donna tips her head in agreement before turning to look at Dean with a sympathetic smile.

“I'm just warning you, Dean.” She pats his arm. “Tread lightly, OK?” Her Minnesota accent grows thick with the advice. “And don't take to long with the call.” Dean nods and glances at the screen.

_ Sooo, I have a request… _ Sam’s text reads. 

**_Make it quick, I have to get to work._ **

_ You asked what I wanted to do on my spring break, and I know this is going to piss you off but can we go to Disneyland?  _

Dean's brows draw together and he can almost telepathically sense Sam’s puppy dog look through the phone. He groans again; Sam has not so subtly been dropping hints that he'd like to go all through the semester. Dean should've expected this.

_ I know what you're gonna say and I'm not saying we need to stay there all day but I've never gone, I never even got to got to go to Disney World while you were working there.  _ A twist of guilt flairs in Dean’s stomach; during the height of his and Cas’ relationship he had totally intended on bringing Sam in one day ad finally introducing the two. 

Dean sighs, his thumb hovering over the keypad ready to type “no”, when a thought occurs to him.

Maybe coming to the park with Sam would be a good thing? He feels jaded with all the backstage drama of Disneyland, maybe seeing it through fresh eyes with Sam might help him get his groove back, so to speak. 

God knows, Cas’ enthusiasm for all things Disney had rubbed off on him enough to get him this far. A little magic boost wouldn't hurt. 

**_Sure, Sam._** Dean types. **_Pick a day and I'll see if I can take off._** Sam replies with a smiley emoji and Dean grins back in spite of himself. He slip his phone into his pocket and heads toward the staging area.

 

* * *

 

Castiel looks at Balthazar with guarded excitement as he watches him open the envelope. 

“Castiel, this wasn't necessary,” Bal chuckles, peering inside at the gift, “although I do appreciate the gesture, I-” He stops, his expression going from mild excitement, to surprise, to confusion. He pulls out a price of letterhead and two plastic cards. “Disneyland?” He glances up at Castiel. “Are you joking?”

“I… I thought you might like it,” Castiel offers, suddenly aware that this might've been a bad idea. “I wanted to say thank you for helping me and I wanted to celebrate my first real acting job.” It had only been a few lines on The Bold and The Beautiful, easily forgettable but enough for Castiel to apply for his SAG card. “Do you… do you not want to? I mean, I can probably return-”

“No, no it's fine, Castiel,” Bal says with a shake of his head. A genuine smile crosses his face. “I haven't had a chance to go yet, to be honest.”

“I figured,” Castiel says with a shrug. “Look, I mean it, if you'd rather do something else instead we can. We don't have to do Disneyland.”

“Castiel I would  _ love  _ to go to Disneyland with you,” Bal assures, placing a hand in his shoulder. Castiel’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, no, I didn't mean for the second ticket to be for me.” He shakes his head. “You can bring whoever you want. I figured there might be a girl you're interested in.” Balthazar makes a scoffing noise. 

“As if I have time to find a date right now,” He says, only slightly bitter, but his tone changes as he refocuses his attention on Castiel. “No, Cassy, I think I shall take you. Have you ever been Disney day-drunk?” Castiel tilts his head and then shakes it. “Oh, it's immense fun. At least it was at Epcot. Meg and I used to wander the pavilions, pretending we could speak each country’s language. Let's make a day of it!” Castiel grins as he watches Bal wander off, still talking about the details of what they should do as “proper tourists.” Castiel sighs in happy relief. It’s clear that Balthazar needs this break from reality as much as he does.

 

* * *

 

“So, Sam.” Dean glances at his brother as they stroll casually through the park, “You’re calling the shots today. Where do you want to go first?” Sam shakes his head, as if trying to rid himself of the ridiculous grin he's worn since he stepped through the gates. 

“I don't know,” he says, eyes darting around and taking in the scenery. “I don't even know where to start.” 

“I would've thought you'd been researching what to do for the last week, digging through all those Disney blogs.” Dean replies with a light chuckle. 

“I have, but… I don't know. I'm kind of torn between wanting to see it all and wanting to savor everything.” There's a hint of remorse in Sam’s voice that Dean doesn't miss, as if Sam believes this is the first and last time he and Dean are going to come here together. 

If Sam thinks that, no doubt it's Dean’s fault he put it in his head. True, Dean doesn't want to spend all his off time at the park, but he can make some leeway.

“We can stay as long as you like,” Dean assures, “and I can see if any of the ride operators will let us to the front of the fast pass lines.”

“Cool,” Sam’s brilliant grin returns. “Do you think we can hit Downtown Disney too? I want to see-”

“Dean!” Dean and Sam turn simultaneously as Donna hotfoots it in their direction. 

“Hey, Donna,” Dean gives an easy wave but is met with a trademark Hanscum bear hug. 

“Doug said he thought he saw you pass by the security station, but I told him there was no way in heck you'd be here on your day off, so imagine my surprise.” She steps back giving him a curious look before noticing Sam. “Oh, sorry… Donna.” She extends her hand toward him. “I'm one of the handlers here.”

“Sam, Donna.” Dean waves a hand between them. “Donna, this is my little brother, Sam.”

“‘Little?’” She asks with a snort. 

“Yeah, yeah, fine.  _ Younger  _ brother, how's that?”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Sam says, shaking her hand. 

“It's Donna, and please, the pleasure is all mine,” Donna assures with an airy wave. “I love when everyone brings their families by.” She elbows Dean playfully. “Dean here is still something of a mystery.” Sam responds with a smile and a nod, but Dean still catches the flicker of confusion he casts him.

“Not a mystery, just… private,” he mumbles.

“‘Mystery’ sounds more debonair, Dean,” Donna says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Anyway, I’ll see you around. You gonna stop by Fantasyland and show your brother what you do everyday?” Dean must not be able to hide his flinch; the last thing he wants is to run into Michael Donna quickly adds. “Harry and Ed would probably really appreciate the support.”

“Yeah,” Dean says with some a relief. He looks over at Sam, “Yeah, why not? But first we need to grab some food.”

“Oh, you two have at it,” Donna starts to wave them off. “I should get back to work.” Dean and Sam wave goodbye as they continue down mainstreet.  

“You didn’t want to say hi to the other cast members?” Sam asks after a couple minutes. Dean’s presses his lips together and gives a vague shrug. 

“I just… didn’t want to interrupt anything,” Dean says, only a half lie, really. Had they been at Disneyworld, Dean would’ve gone out of his way and found ways to make Jo or Charlie break character. Sam gives him a curious look. 

“Are you embarrassed about me of something?” Sam's question catches Dean off guard. 

“What?” Dean scoffs. “No! Hell no! I'm proud as hell of you, Sam. Why would you think that?” Sam shrugs. 

“I don't know,” he made mumbles. “It's like… after you found out about my issues in Orlando…” he trails off And Dean stops him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sam, I'm not ashamed of you, I promise.” He says. “Hell, it would be hypocritical of me to call you out on a singular fuck up after all I've done-”

“What have you done?” Sam asks, genuine confusion on his face. Dean shakes his head, the truth about Castiel is on the tip of his tongue.

“Another time,” he says instead. “Let's just have fun today. You hungry? Want a mac and cheese cone?”

“What’s that?” 

Dean gives a low excited chuckle. “Oh, you’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

“We should’ve stopped by Downtown Disney first,” Balthazar grumbles, stirring a straw into his, sadly, virgin drink. “I can’t believe they don’t serve any alcohol in the park.”

“California Adventure has liquor,” Castiel offers, reading from his phone. “We can stop by there later.”

“No need. I am, fortunately, prepared for emergencies just like this,” Balthazar reaches into his pants and pulls out a flask. Castiel’s eyes widen as he watches Bal unscrew the top and pour the contents into his drink.

“Balthazar!” he hisses. “Where…? How did you even get that through security.”

“I have my ways,” he says flatly as he stirs his drink with the straw. “Oh, Relax, Castiel. It’s just a little nip.” He shakes the container in Castiel’s direction. “There’s enough for you. Would you like some?” Castiel shakes his head. “Suit yourself.” He adds another splash before screwing on the top and replacing the flask in his pants.

He hums contentedly as he takes a sip. “Better.”

“You’re going to get us thrown out,” Castiel reprimands.

“No, I won’t.” Bal takes a long sip of his drink and waving a hand dismissively.  

“You could at least be subtle.” 

“Castiel, the only thing subtle about me is my sense of humor and taste in fashion,” he says. “Now, where should we begin? Haunted Mansion? Space Mountain? That new Marvel ride.” Castiel hums as he sips his Dole whip float. 

“Anywhere is fine.”

“I suppose you’ll want to avoid Fantasyland, at least,” Bal says. Castiel shoots him a questioning side-eye look. “Because of the Dean situation?” Castiel swallows his drink, his eyes darting to the ground. 

“Oh yeah… that.” He aims for a nonchalant shrug, but it comes off more stilted than he’d planned. “It’s fine. If he’s here, he’s here. I’m-” 

“Castiel,” Balthazar says gravely, “what are you playing at?”

“Nothing. I’m not playing at anything. Just because Dean works… here, it shouldn’t keep me from enjoying myself.” He flashes a bright grin at Balthazar, but the man still looks suspicious. Castiel would be lying if he said that Dean being here hadn’t crossed his mind or might’ve motivated his decision to come here. He wasn’t trying to win Dean back or anything, but- well, he needed to make peace with him. The way they had left the situation in Florida was bad and after Sam and everything that went down… Castiel needs to apologize and let Dean know how sorry his is for everything that he said and did.

“What happened between you two anyway?” Bal asks, shaking him from his thoughts. Castiel looks at the other man, mouth slightly open. “You were thick as thieves, and then out of the blue you crashed and burned gloriously.”

“I… don’t know,” Castiel finally answers.

“That’s a lie,” Bal mutters taking another sip of his drink. 

“Well, what happened with you and Meg?” Castiel spits out, shifting the topic not-so-subtly. Balthazar looks at him and gives a sad laugh. 

“You know exactly what happened,” he says. “I cheated on her, she dumped me and I’ll never be able to fix that mistake.” Bal’s expression darkens with real regret. “She won’t talk to me at all. Last I heard, she had moved to Miami.” 

“I’m sorry, Bal.” Balthazar shrugs. 

“Well, if I can’t correct my mistake, I can at least learn from it,” he says, his same breezy tone returning to his voice. “But back to you, Castiel- what happened?” 

“I was a jealous ass,” he admits.

“Ah… Dean, couldn’t keep it in his pants?”

“No, yes… Well, I mean he was always a flirt, but it wasn’t about that… not really,” Castiel sighs. “He was a better actor than I was and… I just lost it.” Balthazar nods in understanding.

“I was always curious over that,” he says. “It’s a shame you two couldn’t talk through it.”

“Yeah, well it’s like you said- learn from your mistakes.” Balthazar stops abruptly and turns to Castiel.

“Castiel, do not misinterpret me,” he says harshly. “I said if you can’t correct your mistakes, learn from them. Have you even tried to correct this?” Castiel blinks several times. 

“Uh…”

“I thought not.”

“I want to fix it!” Castiel snaps. “I just… I don’t know if that’s possible. I mean, I want to say I’m sorry, but, but isn’t it a lot to ask Dean to forgive me?”

“Yes, but you’re not giving him the opportunity,” Bal points out, taking a sip of his drink. “Why don’t you reach out, call him or send him a text or something.” Castiel shakes his head.

“I don’t have it anymore,” he says. “When I left I kind of freaked out and purged all the old cast members numbers.”

“And you kept mine?” A slow grin spreads across Balthazar’s face. “Castiel, I’m honored.” Castiel shrugs. 

“Well, you and Meg,” he admits. “You two seemed like the least likely to judge me for everything.” Balthazar lets out a low chuckle and wraps an arm around Castiel’s shoulder.

“It’s because we’re too self involved and concerned with our own drama,” he replies. “So you still have Meg’s number then? Mind if I-”

“I thought you’d moved on?” Castiel looks at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh I’m a hopeless romantic.” Balthazar shrugs. “I will always look for a window of opportunity when it comes to lost love.”

“Yeah, good luck convincing Meg, though,” Castiel snorts. “That girl holds grudges.” Balthazar hums in agreement.

“That she does,” he says, tapping his cup against Castiel’s in a toast. “Well, next best thing, help me find a young lady with soft shoulders I can cry on.” They continues through the park, talking and observing the crowds around them. Balthazar’s words stick with Castiel though.

He makes a mental note to reach out to Dean. 

Maybe not today… but soon.

 

* * *

 

“So let’s see… we have the teacups, It’s a Small World… Do you still get seasick, Sam?” Sam responds with a glower, but he still can’t repress his grin.

“I’ll be fine,” Sam says. “And that was just the one time on Bobby’s fishing boat. The water was rough!” Dean waves him off as he pops the last of his bread cone into his mouth. 

“Well, you just say where you want to start and we will,” Dean says. “You want me to grab a picture of you in front of the castle? He points up at the pink structure looming over them. 

“Actually… Are the Prince and the Falcon characters going to be out soon?” Sam asks. “It would be cool to see what you do everyday.” 

“Yeah, we can do that.” Dean flashes a warm smile. He knew Sam wanted to see where he worked, if only to tease him about the tights. “But just remember that this is the B-squad we’re talking about. They can’t live up to me.”

“What’s your Pietro like?” Sam asks as he digs into his macaroni and cheese cone, still not half finished. Dean’s jaw tenses; should he be honest and let Sam know that Michael is a homophobic piece of shit who was forced into the role and acts like it.

But if he says that out loud, who’s to say one of the other cast members won’t call him out on it. Dean hates that he’s grown paranoid of his co-workers while he’s been here.

“Not as good as me,” Dean says, playing it off as a joke. After a moment he adds. “The guy in Florida was great, though. Did you ever see the videos?” Sam nods. 

“Yeah, but the quality was always shitty on them. He was good?”

“He was great,” Dean emphasizes. “Like, trained his whole life for this kind of thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, C-uh, He was awesome.” Dean says, his voice growing warm. “He really should’ve been out here-”

“Was he too old or something?” Sam asks. 

“Yeah,” Dean says, avoiding the absolute truth. Castiel would’ve aged out by now if not for the incident between them. “Yeah, it sucks. He was the best. Hands down.”

“Shame,” Sam says with a sigh. His attention is drawn to the cheers of a crowd as two men in Medieval style garb walk out, waving to the crowd.

“That them?” Sam asks. 

“Yeah,” Dean points a finger at the man in dark blue. “That’s Harry… Pietro. And the other guy, Ed, is in my role.”

“Really?” Sam scrunches his nose, glancing between Dean and the Ed. “You two look nothing alike.”

Dean chuckles. “Well, maybe not to you,” he says. “But… It’s close enough.These kids can’t really tell a difference and once I’m in costume and have the strut going on and-”

“Shh,” Sam flaps a hand as the Pietro and Maurizio start their song.

 

* * *

 

“Well…” Balthazar let’s out a stifled burp, holding at his chest. “Remind me not to do that again.” 

“I thought you said you don’t get sick on rides,” Castiel snarks. 

“I don’t.” Balthazar narrows his eyes at him. “Unless a certain person decides to spin the cup at full speed.” Castiel lets out a small chuckle. “So where next? Small World?”

“What about Mr. Toad?” Castiel asks, his exuberance beginning to seep through. “We can get another-” Castiel stops mid-word as the first notes of a familiar melody drift through the air. Balthazar gives him a questioning look before he hears the melody as well.

“Ahh, looks like we’ve come at just the right time for Pietro and Maurizio,” Bal says, trying to sound casual, but failing. “Come on, it looks like Mr. Toad has a short line and-”

“No, no it’s ok,” Castiel insists. “Let’s watch.” Balthazar raises a suspicious eyebrow but follows Castiel toward the crowd already formed around Maurizio’s fortress. Castiel can hear the rise and fall of the notes but not the words. He strains to hear the singer, hoping to recognize Dean’s low timbre, but he can’t pick it out from the voices of the audience singing along. 

“Castiel, slow down. They’re not even through the first verse yet,” Balthazar says. Castiel looks back, his friend 25 feet behind him; he hadn’t even been aware he was running. He realizes that his heart is beating fast and his ears are warm with a blush. 

“I… Sorry,” He mumbles as Balthazar catches up. They stand at the edge of the crowd, the mass of bodies preventing them from getting a good look. Castiel leans from side to side, lifting up on his tiptoes to get a clear view, but all he can see is the Pietro, dark wings blocking his view of Maurizio. 

“I can’t…” he mumbles. “I can’t get a look.” He hops up and down, earning a strange glares from the other guests, but he can’t be bothered to care.

“For God’s Sake,” Balthazar mutters, pulling at the edge of Castiel’s shirt and dragging him back. “Over here.” He leads Castiel to the other side of the gathering where the crowd thins. Castiel smiles as he catches sight of the Maurizio’s brunswick doublet, but it falls as soon as he sees the unfamiliar man wearing it.

“Oh.” It’s all he can say, a rush of disappointment  he wasn’t even aware of crashing over him.

“Not Dean?” Balthazar asks.

“No,” Castiel forces out. He watches a second longer, as if he can somehow will the man in Dean’s place to become him. For months he’d told himself that he didn’t care about Dean or what he was doing, but just the hope of seeing him again had smashed Castiel’s reality like a mirror.

He feels a sob catch in his throat and pushes it away.

“Let’s go,” he mumbles. 

“Don’t you want to finish the-”

“No!” Castiel snaps, his voice ringing out louder than he wanted, loud enough for several heads to turn in his direction. Castiel clears his throat and lowers his voice. “Let’s go to the ride.” He tips his head to the side, indicating the way out.

 

* * *

 

Dean wants to enjoy the song, but he finds himself slipping into a professional zone, critiquing Ed’s movements and the times when Harry’s voice is a little pitchy. Not that they are bad; far from it, actually. Harry and Ed are real life best friends and definitely bring the spirit of the characters to life, but Dean has a hard time enjoying the performance like the rest of the audience. 

His eyes drift from the pair in the center to Sam, mouthing along to the words happily, then to other guests in the audience: a small girl holding plush versions of Maurizio and Pietro, a teenage boy looking desperate to extract himself from his family, a couple of older gentlemen casting loving glances at each other, a scruffy blond guy in a faded black v-neck having a quiet conversation with a serious-looking...

“Castiel?” Dean whispers the word, his eyes squinting and zeroing in on the man before he and the blond guy turn and slip off. A surge of panic floods through Dean. His feet move of their own accord, pulling him through the crush of people. 

“Dean?” He barely hears Sam’s voice, as he jerks his head right and left, looking for the pair of men. “Dean, what are you-?”

“C’mon!” He grabs Sam by the shirt sleeve to follow.

“What’s going on?”

“I thought I saw- uh, someone I know.” Dean doesn’t know how he could explain to Sam the entire story of Castiel and their connection in 30 second, so he’s not going to bother. He spots the scruffy blond head and beeline in the direction of it. “Follow me.”

 

* * *

 

For a moment, Castiel could’ve sworn he saw Dean, but it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. He and Balthazar make their way to Mr. Toad, Balthazar prattling on about something Castiel isn’t paying attention to. 

“Should we get another drink?” Balthazar pipes up.

“Uh… I don’t know,” Castiel hedges. “Maybe for actual food instead or-”

“Cas!” Without thinking, Castiel turns toward the sound of his name. The world seems to freeze as he sees the man on the opposite side of the square, so familiar even after all this time. 

“Castiel?” Balthazar asks, glancing back at him, “What in God’s name are… Is that Dean?” Castiel doesn’t respond, his eyes locked on Dean as he maneuvers through the crowd, Sam’s towering frame following behind him. 

“Cas?” Dean calls out waves an arm above his head. He stops abruptly in front of Castiel, his expression a strange mixture of relief and panic. Sam steps to his brother’s side, eyes darting from Castiel to Dean as he peppers his brother with questions. 

“Dean? What is going on?” He asks. “You know Cas? How do you… ? Did you know he was here?” His eyes meet Castiel’s, pleading desperately for answers. “Cas, what…?”

“Sam, Sam, calm down, I just....” Dean holds up a hand. “Can you give me a minute?”

“Do you two know each other?” Sam repeats, his expression turning shrewder. He shoots Castiel an accusing look as if to ask “How come you never said anything?” All Castiel can offer is a pitiful shrug in return. 

“Dean. Good to see you again,” Balthazar steps forward and takes Dean by the hand, shaking it, and dissipating some of the tension. “You look well.”

“Balthazar, hey,” Dean replies awkwardly, shifting his focus. “Yeah, man, thanks, I um….” 

“-And you must be Sam,” Balthazar turns his attention to the taller man. “Pleasure to meet you. Heard many good things about you.” Sam opens his mouth to protest, but Balthazar doesn’t give him a chance to speak. “Have you eaten yet? I’m famished and I could really use a bite. Why don’t we grab some food, yes?”

“I don’t think-” 

“I think we could both use a corn dog,” Balthazar cuts him off, grabbing Sam by the arm, and dragging him the opposite direction. Castiel and Dean watch them depart but then turn back to facing one another.

“Um... hi, Cas,” Dean finally says after a long minute of awkward silence. He offers Castiel a familiar grin, but there is a hesitation to it that Castiel doesn’t like. He wants Dean’s real smile, not the forced one he used to put on for the crowds on bad days. 

“Hello, Dean,” he replies. “I, um, I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“I wanted to call-” Dean blurts out at the same time over him. He let’s out a nervous titter and scrubs a hand through his hair. Castiel notes that it’s a little longer than he remembers and he finds that he likes it.

“I didn’t realize you moved to California,” Dean says.

“Yeah,” Castiel nods. 

“When did-?”

“A few months ago,” he replies.  _ Right after you brother gave me the push I needed,  _ Castiel wants to admit, but he doesn’t. 

“Are you working in the park or-?” Dean points a finger down to the asphalt..

“No,” Castiel shakes his head. “No, I’m uh, I’m acting actually…well, auditioning mostly. It’s slow going but-”

“Really?” Dean’s face brightens.

“Yeah, I figured…” He shrugs. “It was time. I mean, it’s not really what I expected, but I’m getting work here and there.” If this were anyone else, Castiel would be crowing to the roofs about his role in a soap opera, but he can’t bring himself to tell Dean. He’s not embarrassed, far from it actually, but It feels wrong, for some reason; like he’s the prima donna Dean said he was. 

“Well, that’s awesome, Castiel,” Dean says. “Really, I’m happy for you.” And it’s clear he means it. His face is full of sincerity and it warms something in Castiel that he can’t explain. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sam and Balthazar winding back through the crowd with their food. Castiel glances from the pair and back to Dean; it would be so easy to wish Dean a good day or make a vague promise to stay in touch after exchanging phone numbers, but he doesn’t want to do that. 

To have Dean here in front of him after so long feels like a miracle, like he willed his presence into existence through some sort of magical thinking. 

Castiel has seen enough Disney movies to know not to take any sort of magic for granted. 

“Um, thank you,” Dean says, interrupting Castiel’s thoughts. “I should’ve said that first.” Castiel makes a face, unsure what Dean is talking about, when he continues. “For helping Sam, I mean, with all his legal stuff.” It takes a couple seconds for Castiel to finally make the connection. 

“Oh, um, yeah, of course, Dean. No problem,” Castiel answers. “Really, it was mostly my roommate Gabriel who took care of everything. He knew Dick and-”

“Yeah, but you were there for Sam,” Dean says. His gaze flicks nervously toward Sam and back and he lowers his voice. “He trusted you and … well, you were his friend when he needed one.” Castiel opens his mouth. Not entirely sure what to say. 

“Well, um, I’m sure anyone would’ve helped Sam,” Castiel offers with a half shrug, not quite trusting if that statement is true or not. 

“Still,” Dean says. “Thank you.” Sam and Balthazar reach them, Balthazar handing Castiel some sort of fruity slush thing and his half-empty flask.

“Everything good?” Balthazar asks, earning stiff nods from both Castiel and Dean. “Very good.” He turns his attention to Dean and reaches out a hand. “Dean. Been a long time. You look well.”

“Thanks,” Dean says. “We better let you two get-”

“You know, Sam and I were talking,” Balthazar says between bites of his corndog, a dribble of kethup decorating the corner of his mouth, “by the way, I cannot believe this is your  _ younger _ brother. Absolutely ridiculous!” He huffs as he glances between Sam and Dean. “Anyway, as I was saying, Sam and I were discussing and it seems that none of us are on any sort set schedule for the day. Would we all like to join up?” Castiel and Dean turn in unison, eyes wide, but Bal offers only a pleasant, falsely oblivious grin. 

“Uh, sure,” Dean finally says. “I’m cool with doing that… Cas?”  He looks at Castiel, who responds with a shrug and a nod.

“That’s fine,” he says. Truthfully, Castiel wants to pull Balthazar aside and ask  _ “What the fuck? _ ”, but instead the other man shoves his half-eaten corndog at him.

“Wonderful. Here. Eat, Castiel. Keep your strength up,” he orders. “You were saying something about Mr. Toad, yes?”

 

* * *

 

Castiel doesn’t want it to be awkward between him and Dean. Yet, it seems like it’s impossible for it to  _ not _ be awkward, not with Balthazar giving him knowing looks and Sam’s perturbed expression every time he looks at Castiel. Clearly, Dean didn’t let on that he knew Castiel when Sam fessed up to all of his arrest. 

Balthazar keeps conversation flowing, at least, engaging both Sam and Dean genially. He asks Sam about school and his classes and reminisces with Dean over mutual acquaintances from Orlando, recounting funny stories. .

“So, you two worked at Disney World too?” Sam asks Balthazar and Castiel, finally addressing the elephant in the room, ironically, while standing in line for Dumbo. 

“Oh, yes,” Balthazar says. “Disney princes, all of us.”

“Hercules isn’t a Prince,” Castiel points.

“You’re right.” Balthazar replies with a smug smile. “Demigod, then.”

“What about you, Cas?” Castiel jumps at the sound of his name, surprised to hear Sam addressing him directly for the first time that day.

“Uh… I was Pietro,” he answers quietly. “I worked there about a year and-”

“Wait?” Sam holds up his hands, eyes shifting between Castiel and Dean. “Were you  _ Dean’s _ Pietro?” There’s something almost deferential to Sam’s tone and Castiel can feel his face flush as the possessiveness of the statement. “God! I knew you looked familiar! That video of you guys singing. That was you!”

“Calm down, Sam,” Dean says, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Yeah, we were paired up for awhile.” Dean casts an apologetic look at Castiel as he tries to redirect. Sam’s pinched expression clearly says he’s not interested in being brushed aside and Castiel can feel his scrutiny all through the ride and the next. When Balthazar volunteers to grab refills on everyone’s drinks, he pulls a surprised Dean along with him, leaving Sam and Castiel alone, much to Castiel’s chagrin.

“So…” Sam’s nonchalance is nonexistent and he eyes Castiel carefully. “You never said that you knew my brother.”

“I had no idea you were related,” Castiel admits, truthfully. 

“Sam Winchester… Dean Winchester…” Sam raises an eyebrow. 

“To be fair, I didn’t even know your last name until Gabriel and I bailed you out.” Castiel turns to face Sam, trying to make himself appear authoritative, despite being a full five inches shorter than Sam. “Hell, I thought your last name was Singer.” Sam gives a reluctant nod.

“Ok, ok, I can see that,” he says. “But what I don’t understand is why you didn’t say anything when you did realize that Dean and I were related.” Castiel rubs a hand over his forehead.

“Because Dean and I didn’t part on… great terms, ok?” Castiel admits reluctantly. “I acted like an ass and regretted it and didn’t want to drudge everything back up.” Sam looks doubtful and right now Castiel is too drained emotionally to stop the flood of words from leaving his mouth. 

“Dean got called up, I didn’t and I became a jealous prick. I cut off contact with everyone at Disney after I quit and… I was embarrassed. I’d worked so hard to get away from that part of my life and … well, you were,  _ are _ my friend and I don’t want you to think differently of me.” The 

Sam blinks a few times. “You and Dean got in a fight?” Castiel nods. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I… I might’ve punched him.” Sam snorts.

“Heh, I’ve wanted to do that few times,” he admits with a smile. “Dean never told me about that.” Now, it’s Castiel’s turn to look confused. 

“Never really told me about anything at Disney really.” Sam adds, a little sadly. “I don’t why.” The question flits through Castiel’s mind as well. He knows that they weren’t exactly subtle with each other at the park and Dean was famously a shameless flirt, but there is a big different with being open about your sexuality with friends than with your family

“Well, He talked about you a lot,” Castiel offers, trying to change the subject. “Bragged about his genius little brother Sammy.” He gives Sam a pointed look as he towers over him. Sam laughs, but his smile fades after a second and an odd silence falls between them.

“I  _ do _ know,” Sam begins, “that Dean was pretty upset when he took the job here.” 

“Well, I’ll take the blame for that,” Castiel sighs. “I acted really terribly to Dean and I-”

“He wasn’t  _ mad _ ,” Sam interrupts. “I mean he was mad, but I thought he was mad about leaving Bobby and his friends in Orlando. I think… I think he was mad at himself.” Castiel frowns.

“Sam, I don’t-”

“You guys should talk,” Sam states. “That’s all I’m saying. You’re both acting weird as hell and… I don’t know, you have some stuff to work out, I guess.” Castiel wants to protest, but Dean and Balthazar return at that moment.

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” Balthazar says. “Bad News: I’m out of liquor.” He frowns dramatically. “Good news: California Adventure is right around the corner and they serve it.”

“I only bought tickets for the one park-” Castiel starts to protest.

“And luckily we have a treasured cast member with us,” Balthazar slaps Dean on the back. “Dean has some guest passes we can use and offered to share.” Dean smiles and nods, eyes flicking to Castiel. For a brief second, Castiel can’t breathe and it feels like part of him is cracking open and everything he tucked deep down inside is ready to spill out. 

“Come on,” Balthazar announces, breaking the moment and taking Castiel by the arm, “Let’s hurry before my buzz fades.”

 

* * *

 

Dean knows he needs to talk to Castiel. Really talk to him, explain himself. A fifteen minute apology is a poor excuse for how he acted, but he needs to say something. Somehow, the tension between them is more charged than before. He notices Cas and Sam talking earlier and he wonders what Sam might’ve said to Castiel to piss him off. 

Dean doesn’t even know if Castiel  _ is _ pissed off, all he knows is that he can feel Cas’ eyes on him and… he doesn’t like the scrutiny. 

They grab drinks at the Cozy Cone and wander around Cars Land for awhile, enjoying the spring evening and the scenery as the sun sets over the horizon. Castiel seems to be enjoying himself, if a little quiet. 

“You ok?” Dean asks, hanging back a little so that he and Cas can have a moment to talk. 

‘Yeah,” he says. “Just… taking it all in. My first time at Disneyland.”

“It is?” Dean asks. “Really? As big a fan as you are I would’ve thought-”

Castiel shakes his head in answer. “I haven’t really had the time…. Or money to be honest. Auditions and all that keep me pretty busy, plus if I want into SAG, I need to pay my dues and-” 

“Is it because I work here?” Dean asks abruptly. Castiel stops abruptly and looks at Dean, his brows drawn into a V. Balthazar and Sam walk ahead, deep in their own conversation as they disappear into the crowd. 

“What?” Cas asks.

“Did you not want to come here because of me?” Dean knows Castiel loves Disney. He loves the escapism of it. He gave up everything to move to Florida just to be a part of it. He’s lived in LA for months and hasn’t been to Disneyland once. Dean feels a sudden wave of guilt that he took that joy away from Castiel.

“Dean,” Cas starts and then closes his mouth again.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean continues. “I acted like a complete asshole back when… when everything happened and… I don’t know why.” Dean bites at his lip. “No, no I do know. I was scared. I was scared that you were going to move up and follow your dream and leave me behind like…”  _ Like my dad _ did hangs on Dean’s tongue but he bites the words back. “I was scared and I pushed you away because I thought it would hurt less when you left.”

“You’re the one who left, Dean” Castiel answers, his face stoic.

“I did, I know.” Dean nods quickly. “I wish I’d never accepted the offer.” People move past them like an island in a stream and Dean can feel a few curious eyes on them. He reaches down and tugs at Castiel’s hand, pulling him to a nearby bench. 

“I hate it here,” Dean admits quietly. Castiel’s eyes widen and he blinks in shock. “I mean, the park is fine and some of the cast members are pretty awesome, but… it’s not the same. I liked the people in Orlando. We were all friends and here… it just feels different.” Castiel’s expression softens.

“We were all friends, weren’t we?” Castiel says, his voice warm with the memory

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “I mean, I was even happy to see Balthazar, if that tells you anything.” Castiel barks out a laugh at that. 

“I tried looking you up a few times,” Dean admits. “But I guess you blocked me or something, Charlie told me what happened when you left.” Dean looks Castiel dead in the eye. “If I had realized that taking this job would take what you love away from you… I would’ve said no on the spot.”

Castiel gives a sad smile and nods and for a moment, Dean thinks he might bolt and run out of the park.

“You’re not the reason, Dean,” he says. “Not directly.” He sighs and rubs at his temples. “I was mad at you when you got the offer, but the blame isn’t all on you. I am just as much at fault. More so. I was a poor loser.”

“Cas, no-”

He holds up a hand. “Just listen,” he says. “I was embarrassed for how I acted and I just couldn’t face our friends, knowing that they knew … I acted like a child and I ran away, which was even more childish!” The words seem to pour out of Castiel and Dean holds his hand a little firmer. 

“I deleted all my social media and trashed my phone,” he confesses. “That’s the high and the low of it. And, yeah, I did blame you for a long time, but… but that wasn’t right. I see that now.” Dean attempts a small smile and squeezes Castiel’s hand, earning a squeeze back.

“I avoided this place because… I didn’t want to be reminded of who I was.” His voice is just above a whisper and Dean wants to hold Cas in his arms so badly he can’t take it.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Dean finally says after a minute. “You are about 20 times better a Pietro than the guy I’m normally with is.” Castiel gives him a doubtful look. “I’m serious. This guy is the worst. Less Pietro, more Gaston.” Castiel snorts.

“Really?”

“He can sing and that’s about it.” Dean admits as he picks at a cuticle around his thumbnail. “He’s a homophobic dick. Hates me, I’m pretty sure. Or maybe he just hates the role, I don’t know. Whatever his reason for being a pain in the ass is, he is one and… well, it sucks all the fun out of this job.” Dean shrugs and glances back up at Castiel. His expression is a little less hopeless and more thoughtful.

“It was always fun with you,” Dean adds, and Castiel’s mouth twitches in a smile. 

“Yeah, it was,” Castiel replies softly. Dean notices that their hands are still clasped together, their fingers wound around each other. There is noise all around them, but they seem to be in their own little bubble of quiet, Dean’s thumb smoothing over the skin of Castiel’s knuckle.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice comes out an octave lower than normal and when Dean lifts his head, he can’t seem to focus on anything but the pink, slightly chapped skin of his lips. 

“There you are!” Balthazar’s voice cuts through the quiet like a razor and he and Sam suddenly appear from the crowd. Castiel and Dean both jerk upright. “We were halfway through Pacific Wharf when we noticed you weren’t behind us.” Balthazar’s eyes drop for a second to where Cas and Dean’s hands remain clasped together. Dean attempts to pull away, but Cas’ grip tightens, almost in defiance. 

Balthazar, to his credit, doesn’t acknowledge it outside from a single raised eyebrow. 

“Um…” Sam clears his throat awkwardly. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting hungry.”

“Really, Sam?” Dean says, pulling Castiel up with him as he stands. “You have a hollow leg or something?” Sam just gives a diffident shrug and nods. Dean gives an exaggerated sigh, but leads the group on, Castiel’s hand still in his as he explains their options.

 

* * *

 

Things are much less tense after that, Castiel notices, like just clearing the air had lifted ten pounds of guilt off both of their shoulders. Conversation flows easy as they enjoy burgers and fries. Castiel and Dean catch up and tell funny stories from their experiences as the Prince and the Falcon. Dean even buys him a congratulatory shot when Balthazar lets it slip about the “Bold and the Beautiful”, standing up on a chair and delivering a toast that has Castiel both mortified and smiling ear to ear. 

“To Cas,” Dean crows. He takes a moment, giving Castiel a meaningful look. “To your future success. May People magazine never do a ‘Where Are They Now’ piece on you.”

By the time they leave the restaurant, the sun is well below the horizon and the park is already glowing with street lamps and vendors selling glow in the dark chatchkes. Sam gives an overdrawn yawn and stretches.

“Past your bedtime?” Dean asks, nudging his brother’s side. Sam bats him away. 

“It’s been a long day,” he complains. “And usually, yeah, I’m in bed by this time. I have an 8am class.”

“Seems a shame to leave before the fireworks,” Balthazar remarks, glancing at his phone. Sam perks up. 

“Fireworks?” he asks, his whole demeanor rallying. “There’s fireworks?”

“My God, Dean, you really have sheltered this boy, haven’t you?” Balthazar remarks. “Yes, Sam. Fireworks over the castle, every evening.” Sam casts his brother a pleading look and Dean just lets out a soft chuckle. 

“Yeah, we can stay for fireworks,” he says. He looks over at Castiel and Balthazar. “I mean, you guys don’t have to hang around if you're tired or if you need to be up early-”

“I think we can rally,” Balthazar glances at Castiel, his expression taking on a wry tone. “Castiel?” Castiel would be mad at his friend for meddling between him and Dean, but the day he’s had has been the best in recent memory and he can’t seem to summon any sort of irritation.

“Uh, yeah, I’m up for it,” Castiel says. “Let’s head back to the park and find a good spot.”

Main Street is already packed as tight as sardines, the Electric Parade in full swing as they reenter the park. Castiel finds himself excited to watch the show. At Disney World, The face characters would never be present for the fireworks show, always backstage returning from the first run of the parade or preparing for the second one.

Castiel expects them to stop and park themselves beneath the Castle somewhere, but instead Dean leads them through a nondescript door behind one of the false store fronts. They are plunged into darkness as the door closes behind them with a soft  _ whoomph _ .

“Dean-?” Balthazar starts but Dean shushes him.

“Don’t make any noise,” he whispers. “Technically, only the park maintenance crew are allowed up this way, but one of the handlers’ boyfriends is on the electrical team and she told me this is the absolute perfect spot to watch the fireworks.” Castiel frowns, not sure if he likes risking arrest to watch the firework show. He’s seen the tiny jail beneath the Magic Kingdom and he imagines Disneyland has something very similar. He blindly follows the sound of Dean’s footsteps and voice, though, almost tripping over his feet when he tries to keep going past the top landing. 

“Sorry,” Castiel says, bumping into Dean’s shoulder. He hears Dean’s huff of laughter and feels a playful bump of Dean’s shoulder against his. A moment later there is a grunt of effort and a squeak of metal as a door opens onto the indigo of twilight and the electric glow coming off the street below. Castiel’s eyes adjust to the shift in the light as he steps out on paneled rooftop.

“Whoa,” Sam breathes out, scrambling across the roof and dodging pipes, to peer over the edge. “This is awesome!”

“Careful, Sam,” Dean warns, “we don’t want anyone seeing us. Stay back from the side.” Balthazar nods in appreciation as he plops down on a electrical box jutting up from the floor. 

“Well, I can’t say I disagree that this probably is prime real estate,” he says. “And we don’t have to be jammed in tight with sweaty tourists, so bonus.” Castiel can only smile, the glow from below casting odd shadows over everything as the sky grows darker. 

“We should have a few minutes before it starts,” Dean says, settling against an electrical cabinet. Sam pulls out his phone, aiming it precariously over his head to grab some pictures of the street without being seen. 

Castiel gnaws at his lip for a moment before leaning down and taking a spot next to Dean, conspicuously not touching despite their nearness. Castiel takes a chance, reaching for Dean’s hand.

“Dean,” he begins, clearing his throat. “Thank you. For this, I mean… and for today.” Dean looks up at him with a warm smile, the lights from the street reflecting in his eyes and making them seem to light up. 

“Yeah, of course, Cas,” he says. “I had fun today.”

“Yeah, me too,” Castiel replies, his smiles reflecting Dean’s.

“I’ve missed this,” Dean continues. “I’ve… I’ve missed you, y’know?” Dean’s face turns serious but his eyes don’t falter from Castiel’s. “I’m really… I’m sorry that I never let you know how I felt,” Dean interrupts. “I really cared about you… I still do.” Castiel’s mouth hangs open in surprise, not sure what to say. 

“I know it would be impossible to go back to how it was before. We’re different people now, but…” Dean sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Can we start over? Try again? I know it’s a lot to ask-”

“Um, yeah it is,” Castiel stammers out.

“But I think what we had before was good, maybe not perfect, but... good.” Dean wraps his other hand around their clasped ones. “You don’t have to answer now, just think it over, ok? And if all you want to be is friends again, we can do that too, I just… I just don’t want to lose you. You’re too important to me.” Castiel’s throat feels tight. Dean brushes a thumb over his knuckles back and forth as the music fades in and the first firework explodes above them, casting everything in a pink hue. 

Dean glances up, their eyes meeting and all of Castiel’s resistance and excuses drop away as he leans forward, kissing Dean. 

Music and the crack of the fireworks surround them, as well as Balthazar and Sam’s voices cheering on the show, but all Castiel is aware of is the familiar warmth and flavor of Dean mouth on his own. The scent of his skin is the same and the way his tongue moves over Castiel’s feels like coming home again. Castiel inhales sharply and moves deeper into the kiss as Dean’s hand comes up to cup his jaw. Dean pulls back, his teeth catching at the edge of Castiel’s lip in a gentle tug. 

“Dean,” Castiel breathes out, his chest rising and falling heavier than it should, maybe out of the effort of the kiss or the energy of the moment. “Dean… I don’t want to start over.” Dean’s expression falls instantly and he begins to pull away but Castiel clasps his hand. “I mean… I don’t want to hit restart, I want to continue from where we left off.”

“We fucked up,” Dean mutters. 

“Yeah, and we can overcome it,” Castiel offers a hopeful smiles. “Couples move past a few hard words and a fight.”

“And moving across the country?” Dean asks. Castiel shrugs. 

“What I mean is, let’s try again,” he says. “We need to talk-”

“Yeah, I know.”

“-But I missed you too.” Castiel shakes his head despondently. “And I don’t want to miss you again.” Dean’s smile returns and he leans in to kiss Castiel once more as lights continue to explode over their head. 

“Are you two lovebirds going to watch this?” Balthazar calls out, turning to look at the two of them. Dean smiles and gets to his feet, pulling Castiel up with him.

“C’mon,” He says, his face mirroring all of Castiel’s affection. “We should watch the show.”

 


End file.
